Classics Awesomestrated
by Rabid Wookiee Y
Summary: The whole gang performs their own interpretations of classic tales. Now with Tolkien!
1. Coming Attractions

**CLASSICS AWESOME-STRATED**  
  
We open in a rich-looking den. Strong Sad sits on a plush chair in a smoker's jacket, a large book on his lap. Shelves of books line the walls. Distinguished music plays in the background.  
  
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Angster's Theatre." Strong Sad says. "The show in which we share the works of all the great poets who touched the world with their gift before ending their lives in a variety of gruesome ways. In the next three hours, we will explore the wretched souls of these gifted individuals, starting with the works of..."  
  
It is then that the music abruptly stops. The lights brighten. "Huh? What?" Strong Sad asks.  
  
Suddenly Homestar enters. "Oh, sowwy, Stwong Sad. I'm afwaid we're gonna have to cancel your pwogwam." He says.  
  
"But why?" Strong Sad protests.  
  
Bubs pops up holding a line graph. "Well," he says, "it might have to do with the fact that most people prefer The Facts of Life reruns to that depressive gothic crap!"  
  
"What's wrong with The Facts of Life?" Strong Sad asks, even though nobody is really listening to him.  
  
"So instead, we're doing something a little bit diffewent." Homestar announces.  
  
"More like a whole lot different." Strong Bad announces as he enters the scene. "We're talking different universes, man." He turns offscreen and shouts. "Okay, you guys! Let's hop to it! Chop chop! While we're still young and, in some cases, handsome!"  
  
Strong Mad and Pom Pom arrive and carry off Strong Sad's chair with him still on it. "Hey! What the..." Strong Sad is able to say before he is entirely whisked off stage.  
  
"Ah, this place looks less loserly already." Strong Bad declares with a smile. "Okay, The Cheat! Hit the lights!" he shouts.  
  
There is a loud clang from offscreen and a Cheatish cry of pain. "No, I mean turn them on!" Strong Bad clarifies. Shortly thereafter, the main lights dim, and a spotlight shines on Strong Bad.  
  
"Ah, that's more like it. Nice work, The Cheat!" Strong Bad shouts.  
  
"Meh!" The Cheat's voice sounds from offscreen.  
  
Strong Bad turns and addresses you, the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, and... uh, genderless people, we welcome you to an evening of classic literature like you've never seen it before."  
  
"That's wight!" Homestar adds. "Step wight up for the gweatest show in thwee distwicts! The sparkle! The bedazzle! The white tigers!"  
  
"Homestar, I told you already." Strong Bad yells. "There are no freakin' white tigers! Not after what happened last time, anyway." Poor Mr. Bland.  
  
"Oh." Homestar mutters. "But there's still sparkle, wight?"  
  
"Yeah, there's some of that." Strong Bad admits. "But mostly it's us, the Free Country Amateur Theatre Group..."  
  
"Our motto is, 'We'll just pwetend it's impwov!'" Homestar pipes up.  
  
"...giving our unique interpretations of classic stories." Strong Bad concludes. "That's why we call it..."

"Classics Awesome-stwated!" Homestar abruptly announces.  
  
"Homestar, what the crap are you doing?" Strong Bad yells. "I was supposed to wait for the music to crescendo, the neon sign to lower, and then I'd say the title, not you."  
  
"Oh, sowwy, man." Homestar says, sheepishly. "I thought you had just forgotten your line."  
  
"Sheesh." Strong Bad despairs. "Anyway, we'll be doing all kinds of stories. Classic tales..."  
  
"Faiwy tales..." Homestar adds.  
  
"Short stories..." Bubs remarks.  
  
"Lord of the Wings?" Homestar asks, tentatively.  
  
"Uh... sure." Strong Bad declares. "But not right away."  
  
"Staer Waers?" Coach Z asks, popping up.  
  
"No way, man." Strong Bad dismisses. "I think that's been done before."  
  
"Each stowy will be short and simple for easy digestion." Homestar points out.  
  
"And best of all, the end of each story will feature a teaser so the reader can anticipate the next thrilling installment!" Strong Bad adds, wrapping it all up.  
  
"This is gonna be great!" Coach Z declares. "C'mon, let's get rollin', here!"  
  
"Sounds good." Strong Bad agrees. He turns to the audience. "So why don't you all sit back and relax, with a bottle of Lemon Cola and a loved one at your side, or two bottles if you can't get a loved one, and enjoy our awesome-strated versions of classic stories. Let's do it!"  
  
The group runs off the stage. The spotlight goes out. After a while, Strong Sad's voice plaintively rings out. "At this rate nobody will ever respect me as an artist... or anything else..."  
  
**Next Installment:  
**  
_Homestar and the Beanstalk_


	2. Homestar and the Beanstalk

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **None of the copyrighted stuff in any of these stories belongs to me. Consider this a blanket warning.

**HOMESTAR AND THE BEANSTALK**  
  
Once upon a time, there was a tiny kingdom with an even tinier village in it. In that village lived a local boy named Homestar, which makes sense, because if he didn't live there he wouldn't really be a local boy. Homestar was a nice guy, and everybody liked him (possibly because of some sort of athletic skill he had), but most people knew that it was only a matter of time until somebody took advantage of his trusting nature.  
  
"Oh, boy!" Homestar said to himself as he skipped home, holding a small bag. "Wait'll Marzipan sees these magic beans I bought! That's way better than some old food, anyway."  
  
At home, Marzipan looked tentatively out the window. It wasn't that she didn't trust Homestar, but she knew that he did have a tendency to get distracted. But, she told herself, if you don't give him responsibilities, he'll never learn. Besides, how hard would it be to go to the marketplace and buy some food?  
  
"Hi, sweet stuff!" Homestar announced as he skipped through the front door.  
  
"Hi, Homestar." Marzipan replied. "Did you get the food?"  
  
"Oh, pish tush, Marzipan." Homestar scoffed, using a term that hasn't been used at all in the past few decades. "Anybody can buy food. But it takes a twue business guy to make a puwchase like I did."  
  
"What did you buy, Homestar?" Marzipan asked, her naturally sweet voice developing a dangerous edge. "It had better not be another quadriplegic donkey."  
  
"Ta dah!" Homestar announced, brandishing the satchel. "Wead 'em and weep!"  
  
Marzipan peered into the sack. "That's it? Beans?"  
  
"Not just any beans, my dear girl." Homestar grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "They're magical-type beans!"  
  
"Oh, really?" Marzipan asked. "What do they do?"  
  
"Uh... I'm not weally sure." Homestar admitted. "But hey, they'll pwobably be a collector's item in a few years..."  
  
Without a word, Marzipan tossed the beans out the window. "Marzipan, what are you doing?" Homestar asked.  
  
"Homestar, didn't we go through this with that 'magic' broom last year?" Marzipan asked.  
  
"Yeah, that was a wip-off." Homestar admitted. "All it did was sweep floors."  
  
"I told you to watch out for those con men and their flashy merchandise." Marzipan scolded. "Now we're stuck eating leftover tofu casserole until next payday."  
  
"I guess so." Homestar sighed. "But did you have to thwow the beans out the window? The bag made a cool sound when I shook it!"  
  
The next morning, Homestar awoke with a mild headache and a crick in his back. Sleeping on the couch does that to one. Yawning and stretching, Homestar blearily opened his eyes and looked out the window. There wasn't much to see, as a large green object covered most of the scenery. "Aw, man." He muttered. "I'd better get the clippers out. That stupid fweakin' beanstalk is blocking the view of..." Homestar's eyes suddenly bugged out wide and his jaw dropped.  
  
Meanwhile, in the comfort of Bubs' Innvern, the two con men who had sold the magic beans to Homestar were spending their money and laughing over their good fortune. Bubs, the innkeeper, was a captive audience to their boastful tales.  
  
"Okay, okay..." Strong Bad, the masked, gloved member of the duo explained, taking time to catch his breath. "So then The Cheat gets this great idea. Why don't we loot the magician's castle? Now, it's not easy robbing a magician's castle, man. They have all sorts of nasty things running around that place that could take the flesh right off your bones. And even if you do reach the top, you'll likely get some sort of spell on you, and the next thing you know you're this ugly warty thing who can only serve the magician or something like that."  
  
"That's funny." Bubs commented as he wiped out a glass. "I thought that old magician had kicked the bucket ten years ago, and the King had ordered his castle stripped."  
  
"Look, man. Who's telling the story, me or you?" Strong Bad asked. "And get The Cheat another ginger ale, will ya?"  
  
"Meh waneh!" the smaller, yellower member of the pair added.  
  
Strong Bad continued the tale as Bubs poured The Cheat another flagon. "Let me tell you, getting through that castle was no easy task. It was like something out of Dungeon Warriors or something. But here's the thing; when we got to his hidden chambers, all we found was this old sack of beans."  
  
"Peh!" The Cheat muttered, sipping his drink.  
  
"I mean, what's up with that?" Strong Bad exclaimed. "We were expecting to find a bunch of cool stuff like, I dunno, a golden sword that turns stone into ready-made food, or maybe a magic powder that you can sprinkle on livestock to set them on fire, or something like that. But a bunch of beans? Some magician that guy was."  
  
"You guys still have those beans?" Bubs asked. "I guess I could use them for a soup or something. They'd likely be fresher than anything I have around here."  
  
"Sorry, man." Strong Bad explained. "We met some guy on the road with some money in his pocket, so we figured he looked like a sucker. I fed him a line that had to be heard, man. I told him they were magic beans! Magic beans! And he believed me, too!" By this point Strong Bad was laughing merrily. "I truly am the greatest criminal mastermind of our time!"  
  
"Peh! Meena nah!" The Cheat protested.  
  
"Well, okay, The Cheat." Strong Bad admitted. "I guess you were the one who thought it up, but I was the one who delivered the line with such conviction and stuff. I mean, no offense, but a lot of people can't even tell what you're saying some of the time."  
  
"Meeh?" The Cheat asked, looking hurt.  
  
"Hmm." Bubs murmured, looking out the window. "Maybe I could buy some beans from Homestar. From the looks of that beanstalk in his back yard, he's got some to spare."  
  
Strong Bad glanced out the window. "You said it, man. Some people don't know how to take care of their... HOLY CRAP!" He and The Cheat raced to the window. Sure enough, his yard was home to a massive beanstalk, the leafy strands reaching to the sky, disappearing into the clouds. And Homestar was standing in front of it, simply staring in disbelief.  
  
"Heh heh heh!" Bubs cackled. "You sold those beans to Homestar? And they turned out to really be magic? That's the funniest thing I've ever heard!" By now Bubs was rolling on the floor.  
  
Strong Bad and The Cheat stared for a short time, until Strong Bad broke from his stupor and punted his diminutive partner across the room. "You stupid crap-for-brains! We coulda planted those beans and made millions or at least thousands off of the bean market! But no, Mr. Big Idea had to sell them for five lousy pieces of gold!"  
  
"Weena mah! Nee!" The Cheat protested, pointing angrily at Strong Bad.  
  
"Hey, don't try any of that buck-passing on me!" Strong Bad countered. "Now we gotta think of some way to get some money off of this. C'mon!"  
  
The two scoundrels exited the Innvern, The Cheat spitefully kicking over a stool as he left. Bubs, oblivious to all this, was lying on his back, tears rolling down his face, clutching his stomach. "What a couple of chumps!" he chortled.  
  
In no time Strong Bad and The Cheat had crossed the road and leaped into Homestar's yard. By now Marzipan had seen the beanstalk as well. "See?" Homestar asked. "I told ya they were magic! I told ya! Ooh, somebody was wong and it wasn't me for once!"  
  
"That's not important right now." Marzipan said firmly, tossing a wicker basket to Homestar. "I need you to climb up there and pick those beans. We may as well..."  
  
"Just one minute!" Strong Bad shouted, as he and The Cheat reached the yard. Stopping to catch his breath for a moment, he rounded into his fast- talking persona. "As the original owner of those beans, I'm entitled to a percentage of that! It was part of the agreement you signed!"  
  
"Uh, I didn't sign an agweement." Homestar replied.  
  
"Just a second." Strong Bad muttered, and turned away. A moment later he turned back, holding up a paper that said "Strong Bad gets beans. – Homestaur". "There, you see?" he asked.  
  
"Ah, cwap. I spelled my name wong again." Homestar grumbled. "But I guess that looks legally binding enough."  
  
"Great. I'll just wait down here until you're done." Strong Bad replied, smiling.  
  
"I don't think so." Strong Bad whirled around to see Marzipan glowering at him. "So you're the one who sold him those beans?"  
  
"Yeah, that's me." Strong Bad replied. "You the lady of the house or something?"  
  
"That's right." Marzipan replied. "And if you want any of those beans, you'll have to pick them yourself."  
  
"Lady, you do not know of which you speak." Strong Bad snorted. "Those beans are half mine."  
  
"And the lawn is all mine." Marzipan shot back. "And the beanstalk is entirely in my lawn."  
  
"Well, yeah, but... but..." Strong Bad's words dissolved into indiscernible grumbling. "Fine! You know what? Fine. I'll pick those beans. I'm gonna kick the crap out of those beans. And I'll..." he turned to see that Homestar was no longer standing next to him. Instead, he had climbed partway up the beanstalk already, singing tunelessly to himself.  
  
Strong Bad's resolve solidified. "Come on, The Cheat." He growled. "We're gonna pick some beans!"  
  
"Neh! Wunna nuh!" The Cheat protested, shaking his head.  
  
"Oh, don't be such a baby!" Strong Bad insisted. "Just don't look down and you'll be fine!" The Cheat remained nonplussed, but after Strong Bad had began clawing his own way up the beanstalk, he shuddered slightly and cautiously began climbing after him. Marzipan watched the three forms disappear up the beanstalk with a mix of worry and annoyance.  
  
"So, uh, ya think there's any truth to those stories of a Giant living up in those clouds?" Bubs asked from the edge of the lawn.  
  
"Come on, Bubs." Marzipan snorted. "Everybody knows that's just an urban legend. And a pretty far-fetched one at that."  
  
"Well, fine." Bubs grumbled as he walked back to the Innvern. "What do I know, right? I'm just the innkeeper."  
  
Some time later, the three had neared the upper reaches of the beanstalk. Much to Strong Bad's chagrin, Homestar had been 'entertaining' them with a series of idiotic chatter that had him wishing that one of the branches Homestar used as footholds would give way. By the time Homestar had begun describing the intricacies of the foreign matter found in his well water, Strong Bad would have settled for his own foothold giving way. For his part, The Cheat was carefully and methodically climbing the beanstalk one branch at a time, never looking down and seemingly having trouble swallowing.  
  
"So then Marzipan says to me, 'I don't think that's algae.'" Homestar continued, making a dramatic sweep with his nonexistent arms. The wicker basket slipped from his grasp. "Oh, cwap." Homestar moaned. "That was a gift fwom Marzipan's mom."  
  
"I hope that thing doesn't hit anybody down there." Strong Bad commented. "With that sort of momentum, it'd probably fracture somebody's skull or something. Actually, that'd be kinda cool..."  
  
The Cheat happened to glance down to watch the basket fall. It was then that he truly realized how high he actually was. The basket quickly disappeared from sight among the patchwork of fields, tiny villages and puddle-like lakes...  
  
"MEEEEH!" The Cheat screamed, bolting up the beanstalk and affixing himself firmly to Strong Bad's chest, trembling.  
  
"You looked down, didn't you?" Strong Bad admonished. The Cheat could only whimper in the affirmative as he clung tighter still to Strong Bad.  
  
"Wace you to the top!" Homestar taunted, clambering up the remaining branches, which disappeared into the cloud cover.  
  
"Stupid freakin' acrophobiac..." Strong Bad growled, climbing through the clouds, The Cheat's paws still soldered to his ribs. Finally he emerged at the top of the beanstalk. "Okay, Homestar." He began. "Now are we gonna pick these beans or..." it was then that he noticed that Homestar was staring straight ahead in rapt surprise. "...what?" Strong Bad asked, following his line of sight. Suddenly it was his turn to stare as well.  
  
All that one would expect to see upon reaching the clouds was an endless sea of white and blue. A massive stone castle would definitely be low on the list, but that was exactly what stood before them. The drawbridge was down, and the cavernous front gate was open, invitingly.  
  
"Cool! A big ol' door!" Homestar commented. He began to step away from the beanstalk.  
  
"Homestar! Don't, you stupid..." Strong Bad's warning was cut short when he realized that Homestar was somehow standing out the cloud. "How the crap did you do that?" Strong Bad asked in disbelief.  
  
"Well, I figured if a castle can sit on a cloud, I can." Homestar shrugged.  
  
"Well, I guess that kinda makes sense." Strong Bad shrugged. He hesitantly stepped forward, and was surprised when his foot connected to something solid. At this, The Cheat finally dared to step down from his perch on Strong Bad's chest. In silent awe, the three stepped up to the gate, pausing just short of the cobblestone floor.  
  
"Well, it's a nice place, I guess," Homestar commented, "but the commute on the ninety-five evewy day must be a weal pain."  
  
"What?" Strong Bad asked.  
  
"Oh! Nothing." Homestar dismissed.  
  
"Neena wunnamanni?" The Cheat asked.  
  
"You bet we're going in there!" Strong Bad enthused. "Haven't you heard the stories, man? This is the legendary castle of the Giant! Locked within are a collection of priceless treasures that the human mind can barely begin to fathom!"  
  
"Oh, man. You've been weading too much Doc Savage." Homestar laughed.  
  
"You may laugh," Strong Bad insisted. "But I'm goin' in there! Come on, The Cheat!"  
  
"Neh!" The Cheat protested.  
  
"Oh, come on!" Strong Bad chided. "What's the worst that could happen?"  
  
The Cheat rounded into a long and seemingly exhaustive series of hideous worst-case scenarios. Homestar wasn't adept at Cheatese, but he definitely got the gist of it. By the time The Cheat mentioned the whooping cough, Strong Bad raised his gloved hands. "Okay, okay. I get your point. But other than that, is there anything to worry about?"  
  
"Pehhh." The Cheat growled, defeated.  
  
"Of course I'm right." Strong Bad boasted. "I'm always right. That's why I'm not like this guy." He commented, jerking a thumb at Homestar. Homestar grinned excitedly at being held up as an example. The trio made their way through the archway, The Cheat wearing a look of resigned disgust on his face.  
  
Their footsteps echoed emptily as they made their way through a seemingly endless series of corridors and halls. The castle was definitely not built to their scale, and it took them a rather long time to progress through what were relatively small rooms. "I don't get it." Strong Bad spoke up at last, breaking the silence. "If I were a really big guy, where would I keep my valuables?"  
  
"Uh, how about there?" Homestar suggested, gesturing at a door marked "TREASURES".  
  
"Homestar, you idiot." Strong Bad sighed. "That is such a freakin' obvious place. I mean, the treasure room is the first place anybody would look for valuables. But..." he mused, "the treasure room would be the last place a clever thief would look, since it's so obvious. And therefore the treasure room would be the perfect place to hide valuables from a clever thief, because it's so obvious that they'd never look there! Oh, man." He gushed. "I truly am a genius! We'll look in the treasure room!"  
  
"Uh, wasn't the tweasure woom my idea?" Homestar asked, still trying to sort out the angles in his head. "Doesn't that mean we were both wight?"  
  
"Homestar, Homestar." Strong Bad cajoled. "We were right, but I was right for the right reason. Your rightness actually was a wrong rightness, or a right wrongness if you prefer. Therefore, I was right in a righter way than your right."  
  
"Oh. Um... gotcha." Homestar said as he followed Strong Bad towards the treasure room, even though he still didn't really understand. The Cheat followed them, holding his throbbing temples and trying his darndest not to think about anything in particular.  
  
Entering the treasure room was simple enough, via the cliched old hole-in- the-door. Strong Bad grinned triumphantly as his eyes adjusted to the golden glow of the room. "Fellows," he announced, making a dramatic sweep with his arms, "we've arrived!"  
  
"Wow." Homestar whispered, approaching one artifact in the room, a beautifully crafted golden harp. "Check this out!"  
  
"Forget that old thing, Homestar." Strong Bad scoffed. "Who wants some stupid stringy musical instrument when we can have all of this?" he challenged, gesturing to the pile of golden eggs that constituted the bulk of the room's treasures.  
  
"Oh. Uh, okay." Homestar shrugged. He idly plucked at a few of the harp's strings. Unfortunately, he got a little too into the music and ended up breaking one of the strings. The harp let out a human-like scream and fell limply to the ground. "Whoa. Fweaky." Homestar commented, stepping away from the harp and joining Strong Bad and The Cheat at the pile of eggs. The eggs gleamed richly, and in the centre of them sat a badly-drawn yellow bird with woman's legs.  
  
"Oh, man. We're gonna be rich!" Strong Bad cheered. "C'mon, The Cheat. Let's get that stupid bird out of the way so we can start bagging up these eggs."  
  
"Mennah buh..." The Cheat piped up.  
  
"Nah, the bird's not important." Strong Bad dismissed. "It's the golden eggs we're after, not ugly feathery things." Walking up the wall, he found and broke the shackle that was holding the bird to the wall. "Come on, pinfeathers! Get outta here! Scram! And don't crap all over my golden eggs!"  
  
Seeing its chance for freedom, the bird promptly flew away, flapping out a window several hundred feet up the wall. However, just as it reached the window, something fell from somewhere on its body. Upon its landing, it revealed to be a golden egg. Something seemed to click in Strong Bad's head. "Wait a second... golden bird... golden eggs..."  
  
"Menna muwanna!" The Cheat scolded.  
  
"Ah, shut up." Strong Bad growled. "Just help me collect all of these eggs."  
  
"Sounds good, Stwong Bad." Homestar grinned. "Then we can make a golden omelette!" After taking a moment to administer some blunt trauma to Homestar's head, Strong Bad and The Cheat were quickly able to gather all of the golden eggs into a sack. Even thought they had missed out on the infinite source of eggs, there were still more than enough eggs to make them very rich indeed.  
  
Despite the minor setback, the trip back to the castle's exterior was a joyous one, with Strong Bad improvising a song describing how rich he was going to be, The Cheat grinning smugly, and Homestar skipping along merrily, not realizing that Strong Bad had no desire to give him a cut of their fortune.  
  
Finally they reached the entrance once more. "Let's just set the bag here and go back to see if there are any more treasure rooms." Strong Bad said. But when he placed the bag on the cloud, it simply sank right through and disappeared. "What the crap?" Strong Bad demanded. "How come we can walk on the clouds, and a freakin' stone castle can sit on the clouds, but a bag full of golden eggs falls right through?"  
  
"Idunno!" The Cheat protested.  
  
"Terrific." Strong Bad groaned. "Freakin' terrific. I ask you, what more could happen? Could anything worse possibly happen?"  
  
"FEE FI FO FUM!" A massive voice roared, shaking the entire area. The voice was joined by a series of percussive footsteps.  
  
"Is somebody playing hip-hop?" Homestar asked. Sadly, he was proved incorrect. The three turned around and ended up face-to-ankle with the Giant who apparently owned the place, and was not very pleased to have his treasures lost. The Giant stood a full ninety feet tall, and his head and torso seemed to be part of one solid unit. Burning eyes glowered from downturned eyebrows, and a meaty hand gripped a club. The Giant made vague grumbling noises as he stared at the intruders.  
  
"Uh, hey, man." Strong Bad choked out. "Wanna buy some... uh... Girl Guide cookies?"  
  
"Meh. Dagga tah!" The Cheat commented.  
  
"Hey, that's my line!" Homestar protested.  
  
All froze as the Giant bent over, a massive hand gently but firmly closing around The Cheat. "Hey, hands off, buddy!" Strong Bad shouted. "That's my The Cheat! Get your own!"  
  
The Cheat trembled as the Giant held him up to his massive face, but suddenly the Giant's scowl transmuted into a giddy smile. The Giant stroked The Cheat's fur gently with one massive figure. "RRRRRRRR..." he purred.  
  
"Hey, just one minute. Wait one minute here! Time out!" Strong Bad protested, unable to restrain his protests any longer. "Now, look. I can buy the beanstalk thing, and the clouds that can support the weight of a castle, and all that. But this is going too far! My suspension of disbelief can only be stretched so far!"  
  
"What's the matter, Stwong Bad?" Homestar asked.  
  
"That thing..." Strong Bad sputtered, gesturing at the Giant, "could not exist! Its legs and spine couldn't support its own weight! Its skin wouldn't be strong enough to hold it together! It's basic science, man!"  
  
The Giant seemed very distressed at this news. Suddenly he felt very uncomfortable. His hands clutched his stomach desperately, as though he feared he would fall apart at any instant. The Cheat was carelessly dropped as a result of this, but fortunately Strong Bad was able to catch him.  
  
For a while, Homestar just stared at the distressed Giant. "Dude." He finally said. "This is a faiwy tale. It doesn't have to be wealistic."  
  
"Oh, crap." Strong Bad sighed. "I forgot."  
  
"RAAAAUUUUGGGHHH!" The Giant roared, seemingly confident in his molecular stability once again. The trio was barely able to avoid being smashed to paste by the Giant's spiked club, which ended up stuck in the ground. The three raced across the clouds towards the beanstalk, even as the Giant managed to free his club and thunder off in pursuit.  
  
If it took Homestar, Strong Bad and The Cheat an hour to climb the beanstalk, it must have taken them all of twenty seconds to climb down. Even The Cheat was able to sufficiently conquer his fear of heights to slide down in a hurry. When they finally reached the bottom, Marzipan was sitting on the front porch, idly flipping through a book.  
  
"How went the bean-picking?" Marzipan murmured absently.  
  
"The what?" Homestar asked. "Oh! Um, gweat. And, uh, in a totally unwelated topic, where are our axes?" he fretted. Even then he could see the Giant begin to climb down from above.  
  
"In the shed, just where they were when I asked you to chop firewood last winter." Marzipan said.  
  
"Oh, wight. Thanks!" Homestar stammered, dashing towards the shed. In a flash he had returned with three axes. In a flurry of activity, the three began chopping frantically at the beanstalk. Despite the fact that the stalk was several feet thick and Homestar kept singing that Lumberjack Song, they were able to wear it down in a hurry. Finally, with a creak and a snap, the massive stem began to fall. The Giant lost his grip and tumbled like a gunnysack of wet manure.  
  
"Run for it!" Strong Bad shouted. Homestar ran in one direction, Strong Bad and The Cheat in the other. The Giant's massive shadow began to tsunami over the mischievous twosome. CRASH! The Giant's landing shook the entire countryside. The Cheat happened to be standing in the space between the Giant's fingers, but Strong Bad was hammered into the ground like a stake under the weight of the Giant's arm. "Holy crap..." he muttered.  
  
At this point, Marzipan finally looked up from her book. "You guys cut down the beanstalk?" She asked, incredulously. "Didn't you bother to file an environmental impact statement first?"  
  
"Marzipan!" Homestar gasped. "You wouldn't believe what happened! We climbed up to the top of the beanstalk, and there was a Giant's castle! We twied to get away with his tweasure, but we lost it, and he chased us, and we managed to kill him by chopping down the beanstalk!" Homestar suddenly inhaled when he realized that he had said all of that in one breath.  
  
"Homestar, what are you talking about?" Marzipan asked. "That wasn't a Giant! That was just that crazy guy Strong Mad in his home on top of the mountain."  
  
"Mountain?" Homestar mused. "Oooh, so that's how we could walk on the clouds." He glanced over and saw The Cheat struggling to pull Strong Bad free from the Giant's bulk. "Uh, I hope we don't get awwested for this."  
  
"Homestar, what am I going to do with you?" Marzipan sighed, gesturing at the destruction the Giant's landing had caused.  
  
"Uh... cuddle?" Homestar asked, hopefully.  
  
It was then that Bubs popped up, an armful of massive beans he had evidently picked from the felled beanstalk on his shoulder. "Hey, Homestar!" he shouted. "I got a preposition for ya! If you'll sell me these beans, I'll let you be my business partner!"  
  
"What kind of business?" Homestar asked.  
  
"I've been workin' on a new kind of drink." Bubs explained. "You roast beans, grind 'em up and put em' in boiled water! Who knows? It could be the next big thing!"  
  
With some prodding from Marzipan, Homestar agreed, and on that day, StarBubs Coffee was born. Both Homestar and Bubs retired rich and successful, if over-caffeinated. Strong Bad and The Cheat left the kingdom to find some dwarves to mug. And as for the Giant's remains? Well, Bubs' second brainstorm was a fast-food restaurant, but that's another (and rather more disturbing) story altogether.  
  
THE END  
  
Epilogue: The Poopsmith never did find out what those strange golden spheres were that landed in his pile, but since they ended up buried deep, he figured that nobody would miss them. And he shoveled crappily ever after.  
  
**Next Installment:**  
  
_Strong Saderella_


	3. Strong Saderella

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I apologize for how late/crappy this one is. I promise the next will be quicker/better. And please don't try to psychoanalyze me over this.

**STRONG SADERELLA**

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Strong Sad. He was a sad, shy, sensitive fellow, which meant that his muscular, arrogant brothers, Strong Bad and Strong Mad, tormented him mercilessly. Strong Sad's stepfather, Coach Z, wasn't really a bad person, but he was kind of oblivious to what was going on in his own home. And other places. Therefore, poor Strong Sad was all but a slave to his brutal brothers. As it stood, Strong Sad's only friend was a cockroach named Gavin. Actually, Gavin didn't really like Strong Sad either, but he was too polite to say anything. Not that he could say anything if he wanted to.

In all, it was a typical day in Strong Sad's life. In his left hand was a hamper full of used towels. In his right, a sack of garbage. And balanced on his head was a tray of caramel-pecan Chewities. "Here you go, Strong Bad." Strong Sad sighed as he tilted his head, just so that his reclining brother would be able to grab one of the candies without reaching too far.

Strong Bad contemptuously sniffed the candy. "What the crap is this, man?" he demanded. "I said caramel-almond, not caramel-pecan!" He tossed the candy at Strong Sad's head, causing him to lose his balance and crash to the floor, his burdens scattered all around. "I wouldn't feed this stuff to, like... you!" Strong Bad sniffed.

"I know you wouldn't." Strong Sad sighed, gathering up the mess in his arms.

This chore was interrupted by Strong Mad grabbing him less than tenderly by the throat. "ARMPITS!" the tallest of the brothers roared.

"Does it have to be now?" Strong Sad asked. His response was further tightening of bratwurst-like fingers around his windpipe. "Okay, okay. Sure." He conceded.

Strong Sad winced at the demoralizing yet familiar feeling as he dipped the paint roller into the vat of deodorant gel and liberally applied it to Strong Mad's armpits. It was times like this Strong Sad wished he had two evil sisters instead. Evil sisters could be just as bad as evil brothers, but they'd likely smell a lot nicer.

The reverie was interrupted by the sound of the front gate swinging open. "Hey loser. Go pick up the mail." Strong Bad muttered, not looking up.

"Have I ever forgotten to pick up the mail?" Strong Sad asked. "In all the years of... whoa!" A swift kick from Strong Mad's ponderous boot sent him on his way to the front door at high velocity.

Strong Sad's head ended up going clean through the mail slot and popping out the other side. Not seeming to notice, the postman simply stuffed the mail into Strong Sad's mouth. Strong Sad wearily pulled his head back into the house, the mail still held fast in his mouth.

"Hey, don't get your stupid saliva all over the mail!" Strong Bad shouted, cuffing Strong Sad across the back of the head, causing him to drop the various envelopes onto the floor. "You might drool on the countless heartfelt letters from my myriad lady admirers."

"MY LETTERS!" Strong Mad bellowed, also rummaging through the mail.

"In your dreams, man." Strong Bad countered. "The only reason you'd get a letter from some hot chick is because she spelled my name wrong. You know, drew the 'B' sideways... and without the line at the bottom... and made it more pointy than bumpy."

"Hey, guys!" Coach Z greeted, entering the room. "What's goin' down?"

"Not much, pops." Strong Bad answered. "Just lookin' through the mail."

"That's nice." Coach Z said. "Get off the floor, Strong Sad. You're sweatin' on the carpet."

"I know." Strong Sad sighed, climbing to his feet.

"Hey, what's this?" Coach Z asked, examining a rather ornate piece of paper. "I don't think it's a traffic citation, on accounta the fact that we don't own a car. And I doubt it's jury duty, because we don't have any court around..."

"Lemme see that!" Strong Bad interrupted, snatching the paper. He examined it with growing interest. "Well, well." He murmured. "How do you like about that?"

"READ IT!" Strong Mad hollered, his microscopic patience at an end.

"It says that Marzipan – the only female-type in this here town to escape my irresistible charm, may I add – is looking for a 'creative consultant' and 'choreographer' for those music videos she does." Strong Bad announced. Strong Sad rolled his eyes as silently as he dared. "Hmm... now here's a lady who appreciates the finer arts."

"So how's she gonna pick the right guy?" Coach Z asked.

"It says here she's throwing one of her gala dances tomorrow night, and that all unattached males are welcome to enter." Strong Bad reported.

"Oh. Kind of a weak plot, ain't it?" Coach Z mused.

"Hey, whatever works." Strong Bad shrugged. "Anyway, it looks like she's gonna see the dancers and see who clicks with her. Of course, nobody's a better clicker than yours truly. I'm, like, the clicker King!"

"I'M GONNA CLICK!" Strong Mad insisted.

"In your derivative dreams, Stumblo." Strong Bad laughed. "You'd get a distant second at best. Nobody beats the moves, and you know I've got the moves. I've got moves I haven't even used yet!"

"Heh. I think I'll come along with you guys just to take in the scene." Coach Z smiled. "I don't like to brag, but back in the day, I was a demon on the floor!" He attempted to strike a dramatic pose, but all that happened was that a crack emitted from his spine with the caliber of a rifle shot.

"Uh, can I come?" Strong Sad asked.

"Heh. That's cute, Strong Sad." Coach Z said, trying to straighten himself up.

"What's so cute about it?" Strong Sad asked. "I mean, it does say all unattached males, and I'm about as unattached as they come."

"I know that." Coach Z conceded. "But don'tcha have to mend Strong Bad's floor mats tomorrow night?"

"And wash the draperies?" Strong Bad added.

"PRUNE CAKE! PRUNE CAKE!" Strong Mad roared.

"Sorry, Strong Sad." Coach Z apologized. "But it looks like you've got too much on yer proverbial plate as it is. Maybe you can go out when yer older."

"Yeah." Strong Bad derided. "When it's time to move into the Old Losers' Home! C'mon, Strong Mad. Let's go prepare for our date with destiny."

Strong Bad and Strong Mad left the room, cackling in that emasculating fashion they did so well. Coach Z staggered off to goodness knows where. Strong Sad stood alone and sighed. "Oh, well. Nobody would probably pay any attention to me anyway. But it would be nice to get out of the house, even for a little while."

It was then, predictably, that Strong Bad returned to administer a solid kick to the elephantine shin. "And don't think I didn't see you outta the periphery of my vision, eye-roller."

On the night of the big... night, I guess, Strong Bad and Strong Mad wasted no time boarding the "Party Bus" as it pulled up to their place. Coach Z hopped aboard as well, and the jolly bunch rolled off to Marzipan's Party Shack Place. Strong Sad watched them leave from the window and sighed. He slowly made his way back to his own little corner in his own little chair...

POW! The wall suddenly exploded like in those Kool-Aid commercials. Strong Sad fell off his chair and watched as a cerulean figure, bathed in ochroid light, burst into the room as an unseen Greek Chorus thundered "HERE COMES THE THNIKKAMAN!"

"Oh, great." Strong Sad groaned. "Now I'll probably have to fix that wall, too."

The sunglasses-clad figure turned towards Strong Sad. "Looks like I showed up just in time!" he boomed. "You weren't gonna sing, were ya?"

"I wasn't... planning on it." Strong Sad hedged.

"Ah, shut yer yap, kid." The Thnikkaman snapped. "I could see by that whole little-corner-little-chair crap that you were plannin' on bustin' into song. Well, this ain't no musical! No singing if you want my help!"

"Help?" Strong Sad asked, still somewhat flustered at his unexpected guest's arrival. "What would you help me for?"

"I'm the Thnikkaman!" the intruder responded. "Helpin' poor slobs like you is what I do! You wanna go to that big shindig tonight, don't you?"

"Well, it would be nice." Strong Sad conceded. "But it'd never work out. Even if I had some way of getting there, somebody would recognize me, and then my brothers would pound the vital fluids out of me. As usual."

"Ah, shaddap kid." The Thnikkaman interrupted. "You don't wanna be recognized? Then go incognito, like so!"

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly Strong Sad found himself dressed in...

"An ice cream suit?" Strong Sad asked. "Would it be too much to ask for something from this century?"

"Ooh, insulting the guy who does your wardrobe. Not very smart, kid." The Thnikkaman chided. He slapped a pair of sunglasses on Strong Sad's face. "There. With a pair of authentic Thnikkashades, nobody will recognize that sorry kisser of yours. Now, what's next?"

"Uh, transportation, I guess." Strong Sad declared.

"Right." The Thnikkaman mused. "Now, what can we... aha!" He announced as he spotted Gavin skittering around on the floor. Another snap of the fingers and Gavin was transformed into a convertible car.

"Wow, nice." Strong Sad said. "I guess I can drive it out through that hole you made in the wall."

"That's the spirit, kid!" The Thnikkaman announced. "Now go out there and have a good time, 'cause I don't plan on showing up here ever again!"

"Uh... I hate to push my luck, but... there's one more thing." Strong Sad piped up. "I... can't dance. At all."

"What are you talkin' about?" The Thnikkaman demanded. "Everybody can dance!"

"Well..." Strong Sad admitted. "I guess I can do the Electric Slide..." he reluctantly demonstrated a few steps.

"Ow! Ow! Geez!" The Thnikkaman yelled, shielding his eyes. "Cut that out! You're killin' me!"

"I knew this would be a problem." Strong Sad sighed.

"Hey, don't lose faith in the Thnikkaman." You-know-who scolded. "I've seen worse. Okay, not worse, but pretty bad. Now, you see those shoes you have on?"

"Yeah?" Strong Sad asked, looking down at his ridiculously large platform shoes.

"Those are Thnikkashoes, my friend." The T-man explained. "All they need to do is hear the music, and they'll move on their own!"

"I can see this backfiring miserably." Strong Sad replied, climbing into the car. "But I guess it's just for one night."

"That's it, kid." The guy whose name I'm getting tired of typing said. "Now go out there and have a good time. Might as well. But be back here by midnight. Don't ask why."

"Sure, sure." Strong Sad sighed as he drove off. "Wow, I never knew I know how to drive..."

"Ah, another good deed of the day." The guy who looks like Bubs announced, standing alone in the kitchen he had demolished. "Sometimes I wonder why I bother..." His reverie was interrupted by his wristwatch ringing to the tune of his theme song. "Oops! It's hot tub hour! Here I come, ladies!" he shouted, rushing off, even as the Greek Chorus trilled "THERE WENT THE THNIKKAMAN!"

Marzipan's Party Shack Place was jumping. Not literally, mind you, as that would probably kill everybody inside, but it was indeed jumping in a totally figurative way. There was music and flashing lights and bass and whatnot. Strong Bad and Strong Mad were standing around waiting their turn to show their stuff.

"Oh, man." Strong Bad sniffed. "What a bunch of two-steppers! I'm gonna walk all over them!"

"SHAKE THE GROOVE THANG!" Strong Mad roared.

"Yeah, right, man." Strong Bad countered. "You probably couldn't even identify your groove thing with a flowchart, let alone shake it properly. You're almost as lost as these hoofers." He added, gesturing to the individual who was currently auditioning.

That proved to be a hopelessly outclassed King of Town, who was now huffing and puffing as Marzipan looked on. "Not bad for a man my age, eh?" He wheezed. "My break-dancing days are probably over, but there's always the Funky Chicken!"

Marzipan finished her evaluation. "Well... that was very good, except for the fact that it... wasn't very good. At all. But thank you for coming!"

"Of course, of course." The King dithered as he walked away. "I'm just reminding people that I'm still alive..."

Even as Strong Bad and Strong Mad sneered at the King's misfortune, Marzipan's eager assistant Homestar ran up to them. "Hey guys! How are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh, I was having a great time." Strong Bad grumbled. "Right up until about three seconds ago."

"That's good." Homestar said, writing something down. "Have you twied your luck with Marzipan yet?"

"Not yet." Strong Bad grinned. "I'm letting the rest of the chumps go first so I'll look even more incredibly awesome by comparison. And it's not luck. It's natural aptitude."

"Umm... wight." Homestar replied, a little confused. "But anyway, there's an opening now if you want to go."

"Get out your drool cups, ladies!" Strong Bad announced. "Strong Bad is in the... hey!" he was interrupted by Strong Mad shoving him to the ground and racing off to demonstrate his own natural aptitude. "Hey, come back here, you buttinski!" Strong Bad shouted.

Marzipan looked up and saw Strong Mad staring down and her, a dumb grin on his broad face. "My, you're a big one, aren't you?" she asked. "Now, what can you do?"

"BAAAAAGGGGH!" Strong Mad shouted and jumped in the air. Unfortunately, when he came down the floor made no effort to stop him, and he continued on into the basement. Marzipan was a bit bemused but not especially upset.

"Homestar!" she called to her assistant. Homestar came running up, and listened intently as she whispered something in his ear. When Strong Mad emerged from the basement, surly and somewhat dusty, he was presented with a piece of paper. Unfortunately, of course, it wasn't a contract, but a bill for repairing the floor. Strong Mad angrily stuffed the bill into his clothes and stormed back to where Strong Bad was now having a merry laugh at his brother's expense.

"Smooth one, man." Strong Bad sneered. "Real smooth moves. You really brought the house down."

"SHUT UP!" Strong Mad growled.

"Just to cement my victory, I'm pullin' out the big guns!" Strong Bad announced. "Cha-chink!" he shouted, thrusting his paunch forward. "No known woman can resist... the pelvic thrust!"

Strong Bad pelvic-thrusted his way towards Marzipan. Strong Mad watched with cross jealously at first, but his expression quickly changed to open-mouth shock. He then winced and covered his eyes. Finally Strong Bad hobbled back, doubled over at the waist. "You're gonna pay for that pelvis, lady!" Strong Bad shouted.

Marzipan sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Twoubles, Marzipan?"

"That's putting it mildly, Homestar." Marzipan replied. "What a bunch of hacks! The only person I've talked to tonight with any rhythm was that Poopsmith, and he just wanted to know where the men's room was!"

"Don't let it get you down, Marzipan." Homestar encouraged. "Maybe in the next two seconds the door will open and a mystewious stwanger will enter and change your life."

Just then the door opened and Strong Sad – bedecked in shades and ice cream suit – entered, as the populace looked on in curiosity.

"Gweat Gwacie!" Homestar exclaimed. "How do I do it?"

"Ngggh. Who the crap is that?" Strong Bad asked, trying to straighten himself up.

"Uhhhh...." Strong Mad slurred. He had thought that the stranger rather resembled Strong Sad, but he figured that if nobody had already pointed it out, he must have been mistaken.

"Wow! That guy's sure got style, don't he?" Coach Z asked, joining the scene.

"Ah, what does it matter?" Strong Bad scoffed. "If Marzipan turned me down, she'll toss that guy out on his ear. If he has ears."

Marzipan had noticed the newcomer as well. "Homestar." She whispered.

"Yeah?" Homestar asked.

"I want you to escort that person to my private room. He's the last chance I have, and I don't want any distractions." Marzipan ordered.

"Yes sir!" Homestar boomed. He ran up to the new arrival. "Hi there. Uh, Marzipan wants to see you... uh, in pwivate."

"Who, me?" Strong Sad stammered. "Oh, no. I'm just here to..."

"Dude, you don't keep Marzipan waiting." Homestar interrupted. "You just don't."

"Um, okay." Strong Sad sighed. He silently followed Homestar to the private room, silently cursing the Thnikkaman for giving him such flashy clothes. If he had just shown up in his black hoodie, none of this would have happened. He tremulously turned the doorknob and walked in, closing the door behind him. There was no turning back.

"Hi there." Strong Sad dared to open his eyes. Marzipan seemed nice enough, anyway.

"Um, h-hi." He replied. He wasn't much of a social person.

"Now, are you ready to show me some rhythm?" Marzipan asked.

Strong Sad felt like spilling the whole truth then and there, but then he remembered his Thnikkashoes. "Um, sure." He finally responded. He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses, and let the rhythm take him.

Unfortunately, the rhythm took him nowhere. He didn't move. Painfully conscious of Marzipan's confused stare, he removed one of his shoes and examined it. A flashing display on the heel clearly said that the shoes were overdue for their 2000-step checkup. Strong Sad tossed the shoe to the floor in resignation.

"What's wrong?" Marzipan asked.

"Well... the truth is, I'm not much of a dancer." Strong Sad finally admitted.

"Really?" Marzipan asked, sounding curious.

"Yeah." Strong Sad sighed. "What I do best is... you know, sit in my room and think about stuff."

"You do?" Marzipan asked.

"Yeah." Strong Sad admitted. "I know it's..."

"That's what I do all the time, too!" Marzipan announced.

"You do?" Strong Sad asked, incredulously.

"I do." Marzipan replied. "I like to think about the nature of life, and mortality, and... the intestinal tracks of earthworms."

"No kidding!" Strong Sad exclaimed. "So do I!"

They talked for the better part of the night, sharing the stuff that they thought about that nobody else seemed to appreciate. It was incredibly therapeutic for Strong Sad, and Marzipan seemed to genuinely appreciate it as well.

"You know," Marzipan finally said. "I don't really need a choreographer or anything like that. What I need is a creative mind, and I think I've found it."

"Really?" Strong Sad asked. "You mean me?"

"Of course I mean you!" Marzipan replied. "I'd love to hear more from you."

"Wow." Strong Sad whispered.

"Who are you?" Marzipan asked, reaching for the sunglasses.

"Well, uh... I..." Strong Sad stammered, backing up instinctively. It was then that the clock began to chime. Strong Sad looked up at the clock and saw various carvings of animals on it. It was a curious thing. At the moment, a heart-shaped section of a lion carving was glowing, as well as the wings of a bat carving. What symbolism could one possibly get from a...

The penny dropped. _Because it's midnight_.

"Uh... I've gotta go. Now." Strong Sad declared.

"No! You don't have to..." Marzipan shouted, but already she was addressing an empty room.

Everything was a blur as Strong Sad raced out of the building and into the parking lot. As he hopped into the car, he heard somebody shouting at him.

"Uh, just a second!" Homestar shouted as Strong Sad activated the ignition. "Marzipan asked me to tell you..." suddenly Strong Sad sped off, leaving Homestar coughing in a cloud of exhaust. "Oh, man." He wheezed. "Smoking is bad for you after all."

The city was a blur as Strong Sad sped through the empty streets. Finally the clock struck twelve, and Strong Sad suddenly found himself sitting on the street, his flashy clothes gone, his car but a memory.

"Uh-oh. Gavin!" Strong Sad exclaimed, standing up and seeing a flat little cockroach lying beneath him. Gavin shakily got to his feet and tottered off, squeaking some rude slurs in cockroach tongue at him as he left. "Well, there goes my only unconditional friendship." Strong Sad sighed as he walked off towards home.

The next morning Marzipan awoke from a fitful slumber. Considering the circumstances, she was amazed that she was able to sleep at all, so rattled she was with questions from the night before. Who was that mysterious guest? Why did he run off in such a hurry? Why didn't she get him to sign the contract right away? Even as she berated herself, she heard a strange, thumping bass resonating from downstairs. She headed for the stairs to investigate.

There, in the middle of the main hall, was Homestar. Music was still blasting on the sound system, and Homestar was dancing all by himself, singing along loudly with the music.

"Keep it up! To the force, don't stop! Don't stop 'til you get enough!" Homestar sang as he grooved to no apparent rhythm, adding the occasional "ee-hee" and "woo!" for good measure.

"Homestar!" Marzipan called from the balcony.

Homestar looked up without pausing his dance in the slightest. "Hey there, Marzipan!" he grinned. "Cha'mon!"

"Homestar..." Marzipan interrupted.

"Cha'mon!" Homestar screeched again, twirling around on one foot.

"Homestar, what are you doing?" Marzipan shouted.

"Hey, look at me!" Homestar enthused as he began to walk backwards. "I'm walkin' on the moon!"

The dance ended abruptly when Marzipan unceremoniously switched off the music. "Homestar, what do you think you're doing?" she repeated.

"Aw, c'mon Marzipan." Homestar chided. "Don't be an old stick-in-the-gwass. The party is young and so am I!"

"Homestar, the party was over 8 hours ago." Marzipan explained.

"Ohhhh." Homestar said, looking around. "I thought it was kinda roomy in here."

"How can you be dancing at a time like this?" Marzipan demanded. "We have work to do."

"Yes sir, yes ma'am!" Homestar stated officiously, pulling out a notepad and pencil. "What can I swing you for?"

"First of all, never call me 'sir' again." Marzipan fumed.

"Wight, wight. Ixnay on the sirsay." Homestar muttered, his pencil scratching against the pad rapidly. "I can fit that in on Tuesday if you'd like."

"And more importantly, we need to find that person who ran off last night." Marzipan explained. "The only evidence we have is this shoe he left behind." She continued, holding up the recovered platform shoe.

"Well, that's easy." Homestar smiled, still writing. "We'll just get the addwess fwom the lining of the shoe."

"Homestar, just because you do that doesn't mean everybody else does." Marzipan explained.

"Well, excuse me!" Homestar protested. "Sometimes I forget where I live, okay?"

"Anyway, these shoes are very unusual in both size and shape." Marzipan continued. "I bet only one person would fit these shoes."

"Gweat!" Homestar said. "Then all we have to do is get some flunky to go door-to-door until he finds the guy who fits them."

"Right." Marzipan replied.

"Now, who could we pencil in to do that?" Homestar mused.

"Considering that I have exactly one flunky, take a wild guess." Marzipan challenged.

"Um, okay. Don't tell me." Homestar murmured. "Uhh... what about... no, wait. He's Polish. Uh... oh! Maybe it's a twick question. It's not me, is it?"

"Correct." Marzipan replied.

"Sure. Done and done." Homestar affirmed, putting the last marks on the paper.

"Did you write all that down?" Marzipan asked.

"What? This?" Homestar asked. "No, this is a cwossword puzzle. What's an eight-letter word that means 'stupid mowon'?"

"Well, geez!" Homestar protested from the back seat of Marzipan's limousine, the shoe resting on his lap. "She coulda just said she didn't know!" Pom Pom, the chauffeur, rolled his eyes and bubbled something unflattering under his breath.

Meanwhile, Strong Sad was daydreaming in his room. He would have assumed that his experience was just a dream, but the shoe on his lap indicated otherwise. It wasn't much of a memento, but it was all Strong Sad had to remind him of the night he had slipped out and lived it up, just for once. He even had made successful communication with a female!

His door opening shook him from his memories. Strong Sad quickly shoved the shoe under his bed. "Hey, Strong Sad!" Coach Z called, poking his head in the door. "Uh, ya slept in, and yer brothers ain't too happy about it. I think ya better get a start on their breakfast before there's a rumble."

"Oh, sure." Strong Sad said. At any rate, he had learned that they still had no idea of his activities of the night previous.

"Uh, and after that, maybe you could fix that hole in the kitchen wall and clean up those tire tracks." Coach Z added. "Crazy joyridin' kids..." he muttered as he left the room.

Once breakfast had been served, Strong Sad tried to keep a low profile as the rest of his family discussed the coup of the previous night. "And nobody knows who that guy was." Coach Z explained. "He just took off without givin' a name or anything. Marzipan's fit ta be tied over all this."

"Eh, she deserves it if you're askin' me." Strong Bad grumbled. "She's gonna have to beg if she wants another shot at me." Strong Mad chuckled and elbowed his brother in the side. "Laugh it up, meatbag." Strong Bad growled. "At least I didn't break the freakin' floor."

"So anyway, she figured out how to find that guy." Coach Z continued.

"How's that?" Strong Bad asked.

"Ah, he left one o' his kicks behind." Coach Z declared, absently chewing his breakfast. "Marzy's got one of her guys goin' door ta door with that thing trying to figure out whose it is."

SMASH! All heads turned to see that Strong Sad had dropped a pitcher of water. "Sorry." He muttered. "Muscle spasm."

All heads turned back to the table. "So there's gonna be somebody here with that shoe?" Strong Bad asked, his interest aroused.

"Yeah, that's it." Coach Z affirmed. "'Course, I know it ain't either of you guys, but they need ta confaerm it, ya know."

"Hmm." Strong Bad mused to himself. "All I need to do is fit that shoe, and I'm livin' on easy street!" He glanced over and saw Strong Mad meticulously measuring his own foot with a ruler. "Hey, no fair, man!" Strong Bad shouted. "I thought of it first!" The two brothers began wrestling over the ruler, Coach Z deciding to vacate the area and Strong Sad just pleased that he wasn't on the receiving end of the pummelings for once.

This cozy fraternal tableau was intruded by knocking on the door. "GET THE DOOR!" Strong Mad roared to Strong Sad, as Strong Bad struggled to get out of a Full Nelson. Strong Sad cautiously made his way to door, a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts in his head. The whirlwind sputtered to a halt when he opened the door and found himself face-to-face with Homestar.

Homestar squinted at Strong Sad for the longest time. "Uh, do I know you?" he finally asked.

"I don't... think you do." Strong Sad mumbled, his head down.

"Mrs. Langkowski's geometwy class?" Homestar asked.

"What?" Strong Sad asked.

"Weren't you in that class?" Homestar asked. "I had to sit up fwont because I had 'compwehension difficulties'. Whatever that means."

"Uh, no, I wasn't." Strong Sad replied.

"Martinique?" Homestar asked.

"I've never been to Martinique!" Strong Sad protested.

"You haven't?" Homestar asked. "Um, good. I mean... that's too bad."

"Are you the person Marzipan sent over?" Strong Sad asked, guarding his words.

"Uh, maybe." Homestar pondered. "Just a sec... Hey Pom Pom!" he yelled to the limo. "I forgot again! Am I..."

Pom Pom, who had obviously been through this before, bubbled something in the affirmative.

"Yep!" Homestar announced. "I gotta get all the guys in this house to twy this shoe on. I weally hope it's somebody fwom this house, because this is the last house on my list."

"Uh, sure. Come on in." Strong Sad sighed. Showtime.

Strong Mad and Strong Bad literally were climbing over each other to get to Homestar first. "Oh, thanks man!" Strong Bad shouted. "You found my shoe!"

"MY SHOE!" Strong Mad yelled.

"One at a time, gentlemen, one at a time." Homestar sniffed. "This fweakin' shoe's been on hundweds of feet this morning, and I've got to be there evewy time. Lucky me. Now, who's first?"

Strong Bad likely would have said that he was, but the fact that he was thrown headfirst into the wall rather impeded his speech. "Okay, big guy." Homestar said. "Let's slip this on you."

Strong Mad bent over and removed his boot, revealing...

NOTE: OUT OF RESPECT FOR THE SENSITIVITY AND WEAKNESS OF HEART OF SOME OF OUR READERS, THE DESCRIPTION OF THE ENSUING FOOT HAS BEEN OMITTED.

"Holy cwap!" Homestar exclaimed. "Let's get this shoe on in a hurry. It's hurting my eyes just to look at that."

Strong Mad struggled as hard as he could, but he could only fit half of his massive foot into the shoe, no matter which way he put it on. His shouted commands that the shoe stay on his foot were rather rudely ignored by the impertinent footwear.

"Aw, too bad." Homestar said. "Once that other guy gets up fwom his nap, we'll twy him."

"I'm up! I'm up already!" Strong Bad slurred, pulling himself from the skull-shaped dent in the wall. "Let's get this show on the road!"

"Uh, I think you should put it on your foot instead." Homestar suggested.

"I said show, not shoe!" Strong Bad explained. "Ah, never mind. Just give me that shoe."

"Aren't you gonna take your boot off first?" Homestar asked.

"What boot?" Strong Bad asked. "This is my foot!"

"Oh! Call me observant." Homestar chided himself.

Unlike Strong Mad, Strong Bad was able to slip his foot into the shoe with ease. A little too much ease if you ask me; the shoe went all the way up to his hip. "Ah, a perfect fit." Strong Bad declared. "It's just like I own this shoe. Uh... which I do, of course."

"Uh, I'm no expert, but I don't think that's how it works." Homestar pondered. Strong Bad fumed. He knew that there was no way he could pull this off anyway. The only person who would fit these shoes would have to have feet like an elephant or something...

Strong Bad was hit with sudden realization. He glanced to the kitchen, where Strong Sad was trying to plaster the wall. His eyes narrowed bitterly. He had thought that mysterious stranger looked kinda... loserly...

"Hey, guys! What's shakin'?" Coach Z's voice rang out as he joined the scene.

"Oh, hi, Mr. Z." Homestar said. "I was just gettin' these guys to try this shoe on, but I don't think it fits either of them."

"It's an acquired fit!" Strong Bad protested.

"Heh. I didn't think you could shoehorn either of those guys into that thing." Coach Z chuckled. "Peculiarly-shaped dogs seem ta run in the family."

"Which weminds me." Homestar remarked. "Got anymore single guys in here to twy this shoe on?"

"Well..." Coach Z said. "There is Strong Sad, who's in the kitchen cleaning up after some punks did some donuts in our kitchen last night. Ya know, kids today don't have the proper respect. I mean, I drove through a few kitchens in my day, but I at least left a note behind to apologize, ya know..."

"Strong Sad?" Strong Bad interrupted, a little desperate. "Oh, please! Unless, like, some magician showed up and gave him a disguise, there is no way he coulda been there last night!"

"Sowwy, Stwong Bad." Homestar replied. "Orders are orders, you know."

"Fair 'nuff." Coach Z said. "Hey Strong Sad! Some guy here wants you should try this shoe on!"

"Uh... I guess so." Strong Sad said, trying not to show his excitement. Could he really have a happy ending after all? He didn't even notice Strong Bad's eyes burning with jealousy.

"Okay, Stwong Bad." Homestar said. "Toss me that shoe."

Strong Bad's eyes gleamed when he saw that Homestar was standing in front of the fireplace. "Sure thing!" he sneered. "Go long!" He heaved the shoe with all his might. All watched as it arced towards the roaring fire.

"I got it! I'm open!" Homestar shouted. Unsurprisingly, he tripped, and the shoe flew into the fire and burned to ash in seconds.

"Somehow I figured that would happen." Strong Sad sighed to himself.

"Oh, cwap!" Homestar exclaimed. "Marzipan's gonna kill me! I'll be demoted to lip gloss for this!"

"Ya gotta work on that arm, Strong Bad." Coach Z scolded. "It's like I always say. If ya don't keep yer arm straight and yer eye on the prize, you end up burnin' your shoe!"

"What'll I do?" Homestar fretted. "What'll I do?"

"Looks like it's a sad day for us all." Strong Bad gloated. "Right, Strong Sad?"

Strong Sad would be inclined to agree, but suddenly he remembered something. He darted – well, lumbered – into his room and returned with something behind his back. "Don't get too worried about it." He told Homestar.

"Don't worry?" Homestar asked. "When Marzipan finds out about this, she'll be mad! And when she's mad, she gets out the widing cwop..."

"Well, I don't think she'll notice." Strong Sad replied. "You see, I have the other shoe."

"Oh, that's nice." Homestar dismissed. "But that won't weally... you what?"

"YOU WHAT?" Strong Bad and Strong Mad chorused.

"Well, how do ya like that!" Coach Z beamed.

Strong Sad slipped the shoe on. "See? It even fits too."

"Well!" Homestar exclaimed. "It's always the guy you least expect. C'mon, fellah. Marzipan's been wanting to talk to you."

"Sure." Strong Sad said, as they headed for the door. "Bye, you guys. I'll mention you in the liner notes or something." The door slammed shut.

"Well, ain't that nice?" Coach Z asked a simmering Strong Bad and a slack-jawed Strong Mad. "I always knew one o' you guys would make it big someday. Yes, indeed." He said as he walked away.

For a moment, Strong Bad was too furious to move. Finally he regained his presence of mind and kicked Strong Mad in the shin, shaking him from his own stupor. "You big stumblefoot! This is all your fault!"

"BAAAAGGGHH!" Strong Mad yelled, and the wrestling match between them from earlier continued anew, going into Smackdown mode.

Strong Sad and Marzipan became partners, and collaborated on her next two CDs, _Why Do Birds Have To Die_ and _The Treachery of Leaves_. Unfortunately, creative differences tore them apart and they went their separate ways. Marzipan found herself at the centre of controversy when she tore up a picture of Colonel Sanders on national TV. Strong Sad was last seen collaborating with Björk. Which definitely means...

THE END

**Next Installment:**  
_The Cheat Prince_


	4. The Cheat Prince

THE CHEAT PRINCE

Some time between the fall of the Roman Empire and the invention of flush toilets, there was a modest little kingdom, complete with a modest little castle and a modest little princess. Princess Marzipan was a kind and gentle soul, and often could be found cavorting in her garden conversing with the various woodland creatures. Some people in the kingdom pined for the good old days of bloodthirsty kings and generation-spanning wars, but Marzipan was adamant that no icky blood and stuff would get all over her pretty kingdom.

It was almost a disgustingly sweet scene as Marzipan made her rounds, greeting the local fauna and occasional flora as they appeared. "Hello there, little bullfrog." She would say. "Nice to see you, tigerlily." She would gush. "Ooh! _Lagomorphis Tracheania_!" She gasped as a butterfly flew in front of her face. "I didn't see you here yesterday. Did you have a cold?"

Her rounds were interrupted abruptly when she looked down and saw a fuzzy little wad of golden fur, chestnut spots dotting its back, and chocolate eyes peering brightly into hers. Marzipan stopped and stooped a little closer. "Hello, little fellow." She murmured. "Could you be a... The Cheat? I hear they're quite rare in this area." There was no mistaking The Cheat's unique physiology, which baffled zoologists worldwide, even then. "You're kind of cute, little guy." Marzipan cooed, tousling the The Cheat's fur gently.

"You're not too bad-lookin' yourself, babycakes." Rasped a hoarse voice. Marzipan's head jerked at the sound, but she was unable to discern where the voice came from. Surely it could not have come from that little The Cheat; it was a known fact that The Cheats possessed mouths unable to pronounce English words properly.

"Over here, sweetface." The voice rang out again, and Marzipan tilted her head down. "No, here." The voice chided. "Right here. Yeah, that's right. That furry little thing right in front of you." There was no doubt about it. The voice was coming from The Cheat.

"How are you..." Marzipan's question trailed off at the sheer impossibility of the situation. The Cheat hardly seemed fazed.

"Yeah, I guess I am pretty extraordinary." The Cheat shrugged. "Sometimes I even impress myself."

"But The Cheats can't talk!" Marzipan protested. "It can't be done!"

"Maybe not your run-of-the-mill The Cheat." The Cheat rationalized. "But I am no ordinary specimen. I'm really not a The Cheat at all."

"You're not?" Marzipan asked.

"No way, Princess." The Cheat scoffed. "In fact, I once was just like you. Except... more royal and way less female."

"You were?" Marzipan questioned.

"You got it, cute stuff." The Cheat beamed. "I used to be a Prince. And we're not talking those wussy prissjobs with puffy hair. No way. I was the hottest guy in three furlongs, I had a kingdom so big it was too big to mention in one sentence, and had enough riches to put this place in out of business. No kidding. My kingdom woulda made yours look like a place where they feed pigs. In mud. Where they feed mud to pigs in mud."

"Well, how did you get like this?" Marzipan asked, peering closer into The Cheat's seemingly guiltless eyes.

"Well, you know the story." The Cheat shrugged. "Some old witch or sorceress or... conjurist or something put some kinda spell on me because I was way hotter than her. I may have turned her down at the high school prom or something. So, she turned me into this."

"How terrible." Marzipan grieved, lightly stroking The Cheat's fur. "Changing one's species is such a hard thing to get used to..."

"But you can help me, doll." The Cheat piped up. "If you can turn me back into my totally royal, princely self, I'll be able to get my kingdom back. Then there's the riches, and the massive kingdom, and heck, I'll even marry you. Believe me, babe. Ladies from the world over would beat themselves with a variety of heavy sticks for that privilege. I'll get you outta this half-rate kingdom for good. Whaddya say?"

"How could I possibly change you back?" Marzipan asked.

"The witch's spell can only be broken one way." The Cheat explained. "I had to travel far and wide, and find a fair lady whose heart was kind and... uh... pink, and then get her to kiss me, for the power of true love can break the spell. Or some crap like that."

"You want me to kiss you?" Marzipan asked, warily.

"That's the deal, sister." The Cheat purred, batting his eyebrows. "After all, you did say I was cute..."

"I'm just not sure it's a good idea..." Marzipan whispered, leaning closer.

"Come on, Princess." The Cheat said. "Plant one on me!"

"Well..." Marzipan fretted.

"Knnnnxxxxxx... shrxxxxxzzzzxxxkkkk..." The Cheat replied.

"What?" Marzipan asked.

"Uh, heh heh." The Cheat simpered, grinning sheepishly and madly fumbling with something behind his back.

"What's going on?" Marzipan demanded.

"Kkkkssshhhh... uh, sorry, Princess." The Cheat stammered. "I had a bit of congestion or something somewhere. But, uh, don't let that stop you from kissing me or anything."

"Well, that was..." Marzipan started to say.

"Shhhhhkkkkksshhh...." The Cheat suddenly rasped. "Kssssshhhhkkkk... Car 304, we have a 231 in process at the corner of.... Shhhhrrrrnnnnxxxx... bringing you all of today's hottest tunes from our studio in.... Krrrrxxxxxxx... that comes to $4.30, pull up to the third window... shnnnnnxxxxkkkxxxx..." The Cheat's facial expression became more and more frantic, and his awkward fumbling grew all the more desperate.

Marzipan was about to demand an explanation, but suddenly The Cheat's voice rang out once more. "Come in, The Cheat! The Cheat, are you there? I lost you for a second, there. I knew we shoulda sprung for stronger relays! The Cheat, come in! Did she kiss you? Did you grab her necklace yet? The Cheat, come in!"

Moving too fast for the flustered creature, Marzipan reached over and grabbed the walkie-talkie which was hidden behind The Cheat's back, which also was the source of the voice, which continued to call for The Cheat. Marzipan shot a lethal woman-scorned glare at The Cheat, who shrugged ineffectually and put on his best "Where did that come from?" look.

Strong Bad, crouched in the nearby bushes, shook his own walkie-talkie in frustration. "Stupid cheap imported junk." He fumed. "This thing doesn't walk-ie, and definitely doesn't talk-ie. Good thing we didn't pay for them..." his reverie was interrupted when his walkie-talkie's twin soared from the heavens and impacted his head. "Ow! What the crap?" he growled. "I don't recall asking for the flying model with violent tendencies..."

"MEEEEEEEEHHHH!" echoed across the glen. Glade? Glen. Uh, place with grass. The cry was followed by an involuntarily airborne The Cheat, who landed on the same landing strip that his walkie-talkie had chosen.

"Ow!" Strong Bad repeated. "The Cheat, what the crap are you doing here? You're supposed to be fleecing the Princess, not trampolining!"

"Meh! Yeena wuh naana!" The Cheat spat, ruffling his fur.

"Oh, what, so this is my fault?" Strong Bad asked, incredulously. "Oh, yeah, man. That's a good one. Tell me another one. I could use a good flagrant mistruth."

"Yeena muh." The Cheat growled, kicking the walkie-talkies away. "Peh!"

"Whoa! You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Strong Bad asked.

"Neh! Peema wah nulla nah! Feh!" The Cheat hissed.

"No, The Cheat. I wasn't... I know you told me never to talk about your mother, but... oh, come on, The Cheat!" Strong Bad protested, his outraged baritone mixing with The Cheat's mile-a-minute falsetto as the two con men made their pained exit, gesturing frantically into the sunset.

Hey, wait a minute. What kind of time period did this take place in? Oh well. Maybe nobody will notice.

THE END

**Next Installment:  
**_MacBeth _


	5. MacBeth

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm back, and I thank you all for your patience and understanding. Anybody who's looking for the deleted stories can go to soupfiction dot net. You should find them in the Miscellaneous section, under "Homestar" (of course).

One more interesting note: MacBeth is considered a "cursed" play, with a history of misfortune following actors, directors and playgoers who are involved in it. Maybe it's no coincidence that all of this happened when I was writing this.

**MacBeth**

_William Shakespeare's MacBeth is a play about a man who will do anything to become King of Scotland. There's a lot of stabbing, swordplay, ghosts, insanity, political intrigue, and a really nifty trick of concealing soldiers. But nobody remembers that. The one thing about MacBeth that sticks in everybody's heads is the witches' scene, in which the three Weird Sisters cause magic and mischief in their glen prior to their meeting with MacBeth._

_Our Free Country Amateur Theatre Group will be re-enacting this famous scene tonight. Since Marzipan finds Shakespeare derogatory to women, the witches will be played by Coach Z, Bubs and Strong Sad. Homestar Runner and Strong Bad will act as translators for those of you in the audience who may not understand Shakespearean cadence. I hope._

And this is where we pick up tonight. In the foreground sits a massive iron cauldron, bubbling ominously. Coach Z, Bubs and Strong Sad, all wearing witches' hats, stand around it. Strong Sad is holding a massive book. Strong Bad and Homestar stand inconspicuously in the background. Let the play begin.

NOTE: All highlighted text was written by the Bard (but is now public domain).

"Hey Stwong Bad." Homestar whispered. "Why are all the lady parts played by guys?"

"The answer is simple, Homestar." Strong Bad replied. "Shakespeare was a freakin' nut."

"Ah, wight." Homestar nodded.

"_Double, double toil and trouble_;" Strong Sad solemnly intoned. "_Fire burn, and cauldron bubble_."

"What was that?" Coach Z asked, confused.

"Quick, Coach!" Bubs shouted. "Get 'im away from the fire! The fumes are getting to him!"

"No, no." Strong Sad sighed. "It's the first line. Remember, I told you guys to follow my lead."

"Oh, right. Sorry, Strong Sad." Coach Z shrugged. "We just thought you was outta it for a second."

"What's all this 'for a second' talk?" Strong Bad laughed from the sidelines.

"Strong Bad!" Strong Sad whined.

"Okay, sorry, man." Strong Bad replied. "Just get on with the scene, Witchiepoo."

"Stop calling me that." Strong Sad muttered. Nevertheless, he looked inside the book and began to read. "_Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake_."

"Snakes. Why did it have ta be snakes?" Coach Z asked.

"Hey Strong Mad! You got that snake?" Bubs called offstage. Soon enough, Strong Mad shuffled onto the stage, wearing a shirt that said "Hec8" on it and holding a limp snake in his hand. Bubs took the snake and examined it.

"All wight!" Homestar announced. "Now, the first thing to wemember when pwepawing a snake is that it doesn't matter what end you start with. It tastes the same either way!"

"Homestar, I've told you already!" Strong Bad protested. "This isn't a freaking cooking show!"

"Of course it's not _just_ a cooking show." Homestar clarified. "It's a culinawy instwuctional pwogwam for the entire family!"

"Oh, geez." Strong Bad grumbled, shoving Homestar into a backdrop. "The witches bake a snake. That's all there is to it."

"Is that a fenny snake there?" Coach Z asked, squinting at the serpent.

"Well, it's fenny enough." Bubs declared. "I mean, I've seen fennier, but this'll do." He dropped the snake into the bubbling cauldron.

Strong Sad turned the page of the book and read further. "_Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog_..."

"Hmm." Bubs mused. "I think the same stuff goes into my hot dogs." He then realized that everybody was staring at him with looks of disgust. "I mean, uh... I hope we have some tongue-o-dogs around here somewhere." Bubs stammered, rummaging in his pockets.

"Could I pose a question?" Strong Bad asked. "Why the crap does every magic brew and potion and whatnot have to have an eye of newt? I mean, what's so freakin' magical about some lizard's eye? The only thing those things are good for is sticking them on Strong Sad's pillow."

"That eye twitch still hasn't totally gone away." Strong Sad piped up, pointing to his own eye.

"Now, newt eyes and fwog toes can usually be found in the health section of your local pharmacy." Homestar explained. "But I think you can only get dog tongues fwom export."

"That reminds me. Hey Strong Mad!" Strong Bad called. "Did you get that Rottweiler? You know, the one that was foaming at the mouth?"

"NO!" Strong Mad yelled back.

"Aw, man." Strong Bad grumbled. "I wanted to get Homestar to demonstrate the proper method of tongue extraction."

"Maybe next time, Stwong Bad." Homestar consoled.

"Okay, okay. What do we got here?" Bubs asked, examining the items in his hands. The eye of newt, the toe of frog, the tongue of dog... where was he going to get wool of bat? "Aha!" he cried, grabbing one of the bats that was flying around and snipping at it with shearing scissors. "This oughta do it." He declared, examining the fluffy matter in his hands.

"Is that wool of bat?" Coach Z asked.

"Yeah, but you wouldn't be able to make a very big sweater with this stuff." Bubs replied, tossing the miscellaneous parts into the cauldron.

Strong Sad read further. "_Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble_."

"Watch your mouth, Stwong Sad." Homestar scolded. "Are we even allowed to say 'boil'?"

"That's a pretty tall order, there." Coach Z determined. "You got them owlet wings, Bubsy?"

"'Course I do!" Bubs proudly announced, holding up a paper bucket of fried poultry of questionable origin. "I've got wings, drumsticks, nuggets, and a coupla things that I don't even know where they came from! All done up in my seven signature herbs and spices!"

"Six of which are salt and pepper." Strong Bad sneered to himself.

"And these things do double duty," Bubs explained, dumping the bucket into the pot. "Because they likely have some sorta lizard in 'em somewhere. So that takes care of the lizard leg."

"I am rapidly losing my appetite." Strong Sad complained. "And my will to live."

"And what else?" Bubs asked, rummaging around. "Ah!" he proclaimed, pulling out a plastic fork. "Here's the fork!"

"Is that an adder's fork?" Coach Z asked. "We don't want no subtracter's fork in our kettle here."

"Well, uh..." Bubs muttered. He suddenly tossed the fork into the cauldron. "Well, it's too late to ask that now." He insisted. "Now, what about that blind-worm's sting?"

"Here it is!" Coach Z declared, whipping out a CD of The Police's Greatest Hits. "Lemme tell you, it was no easy jaerb gettin' that worm ta give this up. Since he's blind, he likes listenin' to these tunes...."

"This is the worst Shakespearean adaptation ever!" Strong Sad wailed, burying his head in his book.

"Worse than that Romeo and Julie movie with that Leonardo guy?" Strong Bad asked.

"Well... I wouldn't go that far." Strong Sad conceded, straightening back up. Coach Z flipped the CD into the cauldron. For a brief moment, a ghostly voice was heard to wail "Roxanne", but then all was silent.

"Now, wemember to let the pot simmer for thwee minutes." Homestar chimed in. "We gotta let those windmills in your mind soak into the flavour."

"Homestar, I think the windmills in your mind are burning down." Strong Bad growled.

"It just might be twue." Homestar shrugged.

"Uh, Bubs, would you like to read what it says, right here?" Strong Sad asked, pointing out the next passage in the book.

"No problem!" Bubs replied. He began to read. "_Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble._ Wow! I never knew I knew how to speak Italics!"

"Ya know, that Shakespeare guy had some pretty sweet rhymes." Coach Z enthused. "Maybe he and I could cut some records together."

"Coach Z, Shakespeare died 400 years ago." Strong Bad countered.

"Hey! Did that stop Tupac?" Coach Z insisted.

"Let's just keep going." Strong Sad interrupted. He read the next stanza. "_Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches' mummy, maw and gulf_."

"Ooh! Ya got me there." Bubs admitted. "I'm fresh outta dragon scales."

"You guys want a scale of a dragon?" Strong Bad asked, his eyes alight with excitement.

"You got one of those on ya, Strong Bad?" Coach Z asked.

"Do I ever!" Strong Bad crowed, whipping out an electric guitar. "But I won't just give you a scale; I'm giving you the whole lick!" He plugged his guitar into a nearby amp and cranked up the juice, strumming wildly, the entire stage shaking with the pounding chords. "And the Trogdor comes in the NIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!!!" Strong Bad screeched in that so-so Brian Johnson impersonation that the rest of the gang had become somewhat weary of. Strong Bad smashed his guitar against the stage repeatedly, oblivious to the fact that nobody was cheering. "Thank you! Thank you!" Strong Bad shouted, out of breath. "Oh, man." He gasped. "Now that's what I call a scale of a dragon!"

"Uh, thanks, Strong Bad." Coach Z muttered, a bit overwhelmed. "Now what about that wolf tooth?"

"Well, Stwong Mad seems to have a timber wolf out back..." Homestar explained. "Oh, here he comes!"

A rather surly, not to mention bitten and scratched, Strong Mad stormed onto the stage. In fury, he held out his arm. "Ah, thanks, Strong Mad." Coach Z smiled, pulling out one of the teeth that was embedded in the massive arm and plunking it into the brew. "We'll make sure that we spell yer name right on the paycheck this time." Strong Mad stormed off to find some salve.

"Now we need a witch's mummy." Strong Sad declared.

"Hey, don't look at me!" Coach Z protested. "You're not gonna cook my mommy!"

"And you're not gonna be bakin' my Ma and golf neither!" Bubs added.

"Cooking one's mother should be done pwoperly, because it can only be done once." Homestar advised. You can write your own Monty Python reference here.

"Looks like we all have mother issues." Strong Bad announced. "Fortunately, we... uh, 'borrowed' this from the Free Country Museum of Rational History." He explained, as a still-snarly Strong Mad lugged in a massive sarcophagus. He smashed it open, and tossed the bandaged figured therein into the cauldron. "I really hope The Cheat managed to disable those security cameras like we told him to." Strong Bad muttered to himself.

"_Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark_..." Strong Sad read on.

"Okay, here's where we weally kick it in the notch!" Homestar cheered. "BANG!" he exclaimed as Strong Mad dragged in a massive, flailing shark.

"We're gonna need a bigger pot." Coach Z exclaimed. Strong Mad heaved the tremendous fish into the cauldron, causing a big splash and – it seemed – a change in the mixture's colour and smoke.

"_Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark_..." Strong Sad intoned.

"Oh, uh, I keep some hemlock on me for, uh... medicinal reasons." Coach Z admitted, tossing a small pouch into the pot.

"Coach, you're a sick man." Strong Bad declared.

"Well, it was digged in the daerk, though." Coach Z insisted. "If you dig that stuff in broad daylight, folks start askin' questions..."

"_Liver of blaspheming Jew_..." Strong Sad interrupted.

"Ick. That ain't kosher." Bubs said, tossing something slimy into the cauldron.

"_Gall of goat, and slips of yew_." Strong Sad read.

"Slips of what?" Bubs asked.

"Slips of yew." Strong Sad repeated.

"Hey, don't look at me!" Bubs yelled. "I ain't never worn a slip in my life! I don't who showed you those pictures! They're fake!"

"Bubs..." Strong Sad lamented.

"Well, if you're so interested in my clothing, you can use this." Bubs spat, pulling out a T-shirt that read "I Voted for Sonny Bono!" and tossing it into the now foaming mixture. "And we don't need no gall o' goat." Bubs added. "Seeing as you've got a lot of gall indicating that I wear ladies' underpants!"

"Okay, okay." Strong Sad sighed, wishing the issue to drop. He continued to read. "_Silver'd in the moon's eclipse, Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips_..."

"Uh, you're on your own on this one." Strong Bad hesitated. "I got nothing."

Strong Mad marched in with a frozen turkey and a bottle of tartar sauce.

"Ah, that's good enough, Strong Mad." Coach Z encouraged. "We'll split the difference, there." Strong Mad threw the ingredients into the cauldron.

Strong Sad cleared his throat and read further_. "Finger of birth-strangled babe, Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab_."

There was an awkward pause. Everybody kind of looked at each other with nauseated looks on their faces. "Whatever." Bubs grumbled, tossing a box of ladyfingers into the mixture.

"Hey, Stwong Bad." Homestar whispered. "What's a dwab?"

"I'll tell you when you're older, Homestar." Strong Bad replied.

"Okay." Homestar nodded. He waited five seconds before speaking again. "Hey Stwong Bad, am I older yet?"

"Almost done." Strong Sad announced. "_Add thereto a tiger's chaudron, For the ingredients of our cauldron_."

"What the heck's a chaerdron?" Coach Z asked.

"Uh, nobody's really sure, but we figure it's gotta be on the tiger somewhere, so we'll just throw the whole thing in." Strong Bad explained. "Hurry it up, Strong Mad! Time's a-wastin'!" he shouted.

Strong Mad was not having a good time of it. The tiger did not like the idea of being tossed in the cauldron at all, and it was all the largest Strong Brother could do to keep it from throwing him.

"Well, we sure got a tiger in our tank!" Coach Z quipped, as Bubs began humming the tune of 'Hold That Tiger'.

"BAD KITTY!" Strong Mad roared.

"REEEEEOOOOORRRR!" The tiger snarled back.

"I told them the tigers were a bad idea!" Strong Bad pointed out. "But did anybody listen? No, of course not!" It was then he had an idea. "Hey, stripe-butt!" he yelled, getting the tiger's attention. The tiger looked up and saw that Strong Bad was holding... a tuna sandwich. Strong Bad tossed the sandwich into the cauldron, and the massive cat eagerly followed. "Tigers are kinda stupid that way." Strong Bad shrugged.

WHOOOSH! The mixture let off a small mushroom cloud, its froth sparking in the night.

"Now, some supermawkets may not cawwy tiger." Homestar added, not missing a beat. "So you might have to pick up some Tiger Substitute instead. All the gweat taste of tiger with half the carbohydwates!"

"Coach Z, would you happen to have any more of that hemlock on you?" Strong Bad grumbled.

"It's almost ready." Strong Sad announced. "Here, Coach Z, read this."

"Okay, what do we got here?" Coach Z asked. He began to read aloud. _"Daerble, daerble turl and traeble; _

_Fire baern and cauldron baerble_."

"I hope Mr. Shakespeare's ghost isn't an avenging one." Strong Sad grumbled. He read the final passage. "_Cool it with a baboon's blood, Then the charm is firm and good_."

"Comin' right up." Bubs announced, pouring something red and thick into the pot. The bubbling mixture stilled and simmered.

"Is that baboon's blood?" Strong Sad asked.

"Uh, you might say that." Bubs hedged, kicking an empty HP sauce bottle away.

"And that just about waps it up!" Homestar announced, bounding down towards the pot, Strong Bad following close after. "Let cool, and then serve with fwesh toast. It serves about eight." Strong Mad also showed up, seemingly glad that he had no more wildlife to wrestle.

"Uh, guys? I don't think we should have done this." Strong Sad piped up.

"You got that right, man." Strong Bad agreed. "Let's never do some boring old play again. I think we just lost our audience."

"No! I mean we shouldn't have mixed all this stuff together." Strong Sad declared, gravely. "We might be messing with stuff we don't understand."

"What are you talking about, man?" Strong Bad scoffed. "This stuff isn't magic! It's just some really bad stew. The King of Town wouldn't eat this mess. Well, he probably would, but not as a main course..."

"Hmm." Coach Z interrupted. "By the prickin' in my thaermbs, somethin' evil this way caermes."

"That's not evil, Coach Z." Strong Bad replied. "I think that's just arthritis."

"It's a distinct paerssibility." Coach Z admitted.

"And this stuff is definitely not evil!" Strong Bad emphasized.

Of course, it was then that all went dark. Hideous gossamer light shone from the heart of the cauldron. A thick, choking fog permeated all. Deranged laughter echoed through the room.

"Well, I never said I knew for sure..." Strong Bad added.

Suddenly the room was bathed in brilliant light. All present gasped as they suddenly found themselves staring into the face of PURE EVIL.

A merry organ tune played as a little green goblin hopped about.

No, not THAT pure evil, dummy! The other one!

"Wha 'sup, party girls?" the hideous fiend grinned. "The name's Marshie! Uppercase M, lowercase arshie, awesomecase ME!"

The assembled players screamed and fled this hideous sight. Strong Sad was able to let out an "I told you so", and Strong Bad likewise let out a "shut up and keep running".

"Of course, normally mawshmallow monsters take up to 8 hours to pwepare..." Homestar gasped as he ran, "so we had one alweady pwepared in the wefwigewator!"

The inhuman wraith cackled. "Hold onto your hats, folks, 'cause here I go agaaaaaaiiiiiinnnn!" he cheered as he took off in pursuit.

_Exeunt omnes. _

THE END

**Next Installment:**

_Inevitable Lord of the Rings Parody_


	6. Inevitable Lord of the Rings Parody

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, loyal and reportedly good-looking readers. The Crisis is over, and it's back to the classics for me. Something tells me I'm gonna get some letters about this one...

INEVITABLE LORD OF THE RINGS PARODY 

_The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was, is lost, for none now live who remember it._

((It is at this point Strong Bad steps in with the good old mute button, puts Kate Beckinsale out of her misery (and ours), and takes over the role of Omniscient Narrator.))

Uh... look. Thanks a lot for coming out for our production of the... Land of the Rings or whatever this is called, but... well... we're gonna have to cut this one short. Otherwise, it'd take about, like, nine hours to read, and we don't want to be held responsible for you guys ending up in a coma, or injured when your computer monitor becomes top-heavy and falls on your head or something. 'Cause at our budget there's no way we could afford legal counsel.

"We can't afford health insurance either!" Strong Sad whines. "In fact, I'm still limping from that scene in..."

Shut up. So, without further ado, or adon't, we're gonna skip right to end. And believe me, we can do this. I've got the remote, man. Not to mention I can, like, screw with the contrast and turn everything green and stuff. So, here we go! Overblown climactic battle scene, T-minus NOW!

"Strong Bad, you can't do that!" Strong Sad blubbers like a whiney little whiner-thing. "You need to establish the backstory! And stop narrating when I speak! I wasn't whining!"

Yeah, whatever. Fine. You guys want backstory? I've got all the backstory you can handle! I'm like the 24-hour backstory outlet mall here! Let's go back to the beginning, where we meet the only cool character in the story.

Once upon a time, in the land of Middle Free Country, there lived a totally wicked-awesome guy known as... SAURONG BAD!!! Oh, man. He was the greatest. He had, like, a cast-iron wrestling mask and razor-spiked boxing gloves and junk like that. He was seriously awesome, man. If he wasn't fictional, I'm sure we'd totally hang out together at the Frozen Flavours shop and stuff like that, hitting on that pencil-girl at the counter. But, I digress. Now, Saurong Bad saw that all of the other losers in Middle Free Country were making super-duper rings for themselves so they could control the populace. So he figured, what the heck. I'ma make a ring of my own. I can do that, 'cause I'm the coolest. So he made a Ring of his own, only he made it so it was way better than all the other rings. Heck, it even said so right on the Ring:

"_This is the most totally awesome Ring there ever was and likely ever will be. Your rings suck_."

Only he wrote it in, like, calligraphy or fancy pen crap like that. This was one pimpin' ring, I'll tell you. I find it a true testament to Saurong Bad's utter awesomeness that he was able to be a total babe magnet even while wearing jewellery. It takes the most awesome of awesome to pull a look like that off, man.

Now, if it was up to me, we'd just end the story here. But unfortunately, there's a load of stuff going on here. Saurong Bad figured that he should be the ruler of Middle Free Country, and quite personally, I don't have a problem with that. But all of the other losers in that realm did, and there was this big war between them and Saurong Bad's army of Goblins. And let me tell you, it was a freakin' inspiration, man. Saurong Bad was out there beatin' the crap out of everybody with his awesomeness. And also a big freakin' sword. But the fun and games ended when he ended up pounding the snot out of some guy who was a King or something. The King's son didn't know enough to stay out of it, and in a totally lucky shot that I really wish we coulda called the refs on, ended up cutting off the Ring. And, uh... I guess I forgot to mention that Saurong Bad had made it so the Ring was his life force or something, and so that made him blow up and turn into a cloud. Hey, man. Nobody's perfect. Well, except me, but that's not important now.

But Saurong Bad was still the coolest, after all. Now, anybody who wore the Ring would be swayed by his residual awesome, and they'd be all compelled and stuff to return it to his sinister and well-decorated lair so he could get his body back. And the only way to get rid of the Ring would be to throw it into the fire that forged it, but that was in the middle of some smelly old volcano, so it's not like it was Party Mix Central or anything. But that King's son was a few Cold Ones short of a six-pack, and he fell and hit his head or something and lost the Ring in a waterfall. So Saurong Bad was out of commission for a while. But, you can't keep a cool man down, and eventually somebody found the Ring, and it changed hands a few times, most of those hands belonging to really dumb people, until finally it ended up in the hands of our so-called heroes. Now they're on an epic and... overly-descriptive quest to destroy the Ring before Saurong Bad can make another attack and get the Ring back. Right now he's this big glowing green eye. Cool, huh?

Now can we go to the story...? Oh, wait. Right. Here's a quick list of all those other characters in this story. Read: none of them are even close to Saurong Bad's awesomeness level. We're talking beyond comparison, man.

We may as well start at the bottom. First we have the ever-emotive Fromestar Runnins. He inherited the Ring from his dirty old uncle and he thinks that he can get the Ring all the way to the volcano without being swayed. Pshawww. Yeah, right. He dresses horribly out of style and has really goofy-looking feet. I don't know how he's survived this far, man. Whenever a battle starts, all he does is stand around looking stunned until somebody knocks him over and/or stabs him. Hopeless, man. Hopeless.

Fromestar holds his sword aloft. "Hooway!" He shouts. "I'm going to wescue Pwincess Zelda!"

But he's not alone on his quest. He took his freakin' gardener along for no apparent reason. Maybe he thinks he'll be in need of... cultivating? I just don't get it, man. Why not take, like, the milkman and his super no-refill-bottle-powers with him while he's at it? Anyway, rake-boy is yet another loser with weird feet; Strong Sam.

Strong Sam sighs to himself. "The things I do in the name of classic literature."

And... uh... there are two more of those big-feet guys in there, too, but... uh... how can I put this? We kinda ran outta people to play them, and it doesn't really matter, since all they do is act like morons and get in a lot of trouble. So, don't bother looking for them, because they're totally not in this story. And I couldn't be happier.

Oh, yeah. And then we have a group of guys who were supposed to be protecting the Guy Who Holds The Ring, but instead, they mostly just ran around in confusing subplots. First of all we have Arapom, who's supposed to be a King or something, but instead he spends his time riding across the countryside on his horse and refusing to get a haircut. Freakin' hippie. He's pretty good with a sword, but I don't see how that covers up his glaring lack of charisma.

Arapom raises his sword and bubbles something in an ancient tongue. I think. It's hard to tell with that guy.

And then there's Zegolas, a skinny guy who dresses in green and likes shooting stuff with arrows. He's a bit of a wimp, actually. If I had him as a travelling companion, I'd have him hanging from a tree by his undergarments in about ten minutes, man. For real.

Zegolas pulls back his bowstring and aims wobbily, failing to notice that the bow is backwards and he's aiming for his own eye. "Check out this shot, yo!" he yells.

TWANG!

Ouch. He's gonna feel that one in the morning. And the afternoon. And maybe a few evenings, even, depending on his schedule. Oh, and that brings us to Bubsi, a loud, hairy guy who likes hitting things with axes. And that's really all there is to him. Oh, and he dresses like a Viking for reasons I'm not even going to consider asking about. I just thought I'd mention that.

Bubsi swings his axe around. "Ah, like you folks don't have hobbies, right?"

And then we have... oh, man. I had almost forgotten about this guy. The crazy old man himself, Randolph, the Wizard of Town. Words alone cannot describe how utterly loserly this guy is. Let's go to a flashback to a somewhat pivotal point around the three-hour mark:

--

_The Fellowship had successfully crossed the Bridge of Thatguys-Dumb, but the vicious Balrogdor continued to stalk them, his beefy arm waving a whip, his breath setting the musty air of the Mines of Morons aflame._

"_Ya want I should take 'im out, Mr. Wizard?" Zegolas asked, readying his bow. "I'll give it to him right between the ol' eyes, like... ouch!" his bow suddenly snapped back, smacking him hard in the face. _

"_No, no. He's much too powerful for you, boys." Randolph replied. "I shall take him on single-handedly." He waved his staff around for emphasis. "Watch and learn, boys! Most people would be delighted to see a mighty wizard in action! Doo hoo hoo!"_

_He dramatically stepped onto the stone bridge over the bottomless chasm, just as the fiery fiend stepped onto the other side. "Now see here, you great ugly beast!" the Wizard of Town scolded. "You've gone far enough! I am the mightiest wizard in this area! You cannot pass! You cannot..."_

_He was interrupted by a large cracking sound. Both he and the monster looked down to see that the beast's incredible tonnage, joined by Randolph's hardly-trim girth, had caused the bridge to crumble. "Oh, dear. I knew I shouldn't have had that third breakfast back at the Homeshire." Randolph muttered, just before the entire edifice collapsed, sending both him and the beast tumbling into the black void. "Um, birdies? A little help, here? Please? Birdies? Yoo hoo! Birdies! Any time, now! Doo hoo? Hoo?" his voice echoed for a moment, and then he was gone. Fallen to the shadow._

_The Fellowship simply stared at the pit and the abyss that had claimed their sage. Finally Fromestar dared to speak. "Not bad. But I've seen David Copperfield do it way better."_

--

Ecch. I feel less cool just reading that. And the worst of it all is that he still didn't freakin' die, if you'll believe it. Oh, no. He came back with an outfit that was even gaudier than his first one, and a white horse. I guess the horse is the only guy in the kingdom who could match him at the buffet line or something.

And then, since we need at least one girl in every story (I think it's some sort of law or something), there's Princess Marzwpyn. And no, that's not a typo. Man, you know you're in trouble when your name is like a nightmare Scrabble hand. She's your typical modern-minded woman trapped in a period piece, just in case we've missed a cliché. You know, she wants to fight in the all-guy army and stuff like that. On the plus side, she's sufficiently hot. I wouldn't mind giving her a ring, if you know what I mean...

Princess Marzwpyn, acting totally out of line, slaps Strong Bad across the face with the hilt of her sword and storms off.

Hey, that's not very professional, missy! You can be replaced, you know! I've still got that Cream-of-Wheat girl's phone number around here... somewhere...

Anyway, who's left? Oh, yeah. Saurong Bad had two henchmen running around as well. One of them was the leader of the... uh... Night Riders or something like that. Wasn't that the show with the talking car? Anyway, the leader was a big guy in black called the Big-King. Which is a real dumb name, I'll readily admit. And there also was The Cheat, a wretched if somewhat cuddly creature who became obsessed with the Ring years ago. Beats me, man. Maybe he's got a thing for shiny stuff. He's been following the good guys for some time, and even tricked them into wandering into some big bug's cave. However, they got away, which isn't all that impressive. Running away from a bug?

Well, that's about... oh, wait a minute. And at one point in the story they ran into some weird guy who talks funny and serves no purpose to the plot whatsoever. You guessed it – our old friend Homsar Bombadil!

Homsar Bombadil dances around. "Dya-a-a-ah! I tripped over my lambas bread!" he shouts.

Well, that's about it. If you're still reading this, your butt must be number than Homestar's head by now. For your convenience, we'll drop you off where Fromestar and Strong Sam are climbing the volcano try to destroy the Ring, while the rest of the characters are all battling Saurong Bad's awesome forces in a Battle Royale. With cheese. Here we go! I'll turn the narration back to that guy who writes this stuff. Whoever he is.

--

The battle raging miles below was intense, but the true heat was coming from the boiling lava in the Mountain of Moron. Ash and sulphur choked the air, and the entire mountain rumbled from time to time. All in all, not a pleasant place to be. However, it was not enough to waver Fromestar's optimism. By this point, I honestly think that nothing could.

"This is so cool!" Fromestar announced as he climbed. "Isn't the view tewwific, Stwong Sam?"

"Oh, uh, yeah." Strong Sam sighed to himself as he tried not to look down. "I don't think I've ever had a more enriching hike in my life."

"Hey!" Fromestar suddenly exclaimed, bringing the climb to a dead halt. "I can see my house fwom up here!"

"Uh, yeah. That's probably because Poopsaruman set it on fire." Strong Sam replied, shading his eyes at the massive fire burning on the horizon, the inky smoke reaching high into the sky.

"Yeah, you're pwobably wight." Fromestar conceded. "I think I'll woast some marshmallows on that fire when we get back." He added.

"I hate to tell you this, Mr. Fromestar, but I don't think we'll be going back home." Strong Sam lamented.

"Why? You wanna live here?" Fromestar was incredulous. "Sowwy, but that's kinda weird. The view is nice, but the lack of bathwoom facilities takes the wesale value down a few notches."

Little did the intrepid pair know that dark, gleaming eyes were peering at them from behind a rock. A golden tooth glinted menacingly. "Reh heh heh heh." The creature cackled. The time for revenge was soon.

Meanwhile, the battle wasn't going too hot. The good guys had a lot of faceless extras fighting the Goblins to a draw, but most of the main characters weren't around. Randolph was staff-fighting those Night Rider guys, and Princess Marzwpyn was riding around the battlefield yelling at the bad guys for mistreating their elephant-things, but the rest were missing. Arapom, Zegolas and Bubsi had snuck off the night previous and nobody knew where they were. _Men_, Princess Marzwpyn thought to herself. _Probably out hitting the taverns at all hours instead of showing some responsibility, as usual._

Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw that the Big-King, who had caused all of the casualties on both sides of the battle, had just struck down her uncle. Who was, uh... that guy... well, it was her uncle. That's good enough for you, right? Not pleased at this act of unclecide, she rode over for a confrontation.

The Big-King wasn't a very eloquent guy, but his point had come across well enough when he yelled "I BEAT YOU!" at his victim. It was then that he noticed the brave Princess glaring up at him.

"SCREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAM!" The Big-King's annoying dragon-thing roared in the Princess' face. The scream was interrupted by a decisive slap.

"Back off! Go home!" Princess Marzwpyn scolded the dragon-thing, staring it right in the eye. The beast burst into sobs and flew off, dumping its mount off behind it. The surly Big-King clambered to his feet, bringing himself back to his full height.

"BAAAAGH!" the dark behemoth roared, smashing his sword to the ground. Not that the sword actually hit Princess Marzwpyn in the space intervening, of course. The Big-King had troubles seeing through that ridiculous helmet. He stared at the Princess, his eyes burning. "NO MAN CAN BEAT ME!" he boomed, reciting the ancient prophesy that gave him his considerable might. Only in fewer words.

"I am not a man!" The Princess wittily rejoined, pulling off her helmet to reveal her long blonde hair. Actually, that didn't really prove anything, because most of the guys in this place had long blonde hair as well. Nevertheless, the Big-King was suddenly shaken with the realization that he was battling a lady-type.

"AAAUUUGGGH! COOTIES!" he screamed. And then he imploded. Freakin' wimp.

Princess Marzwpyn sighed and had a boring conversation with her dying uncle. She then turned back to the still-raging battle. Where were those three wastrels, anyway? She knew it wasn't logical that three warriors could turn the tide in a battle with literally millions of participants, but it was the _principle_ of the thing, blast it all.

Her bitter thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of several ships of unusual design on the nearby shore. "Is it Mardi Gras already?" Marzipan asked herself aloud. As she approached the ships, suddenly three familiar figures leaped from the lead ship to the beach.

"Hey hey Princess!" Bubsi cheered in greeting. "Let's get this party started and the heads a-rollin'!"

"Well, I hope you boys have been enjoying yourselves." Marzwpyn accused. "So nice of you to show up."

Arapom bubbled something in his defence.

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry." Marzwpyn sighed, softening. "I guess it's just the war or something, but I've just been so stressed lately. I don't know... while I was clubbing those Goblins over the head back there, I began asking myself what I really wanted to do with my life, and then..."

Arapom bubbled something comforting.

"So, anyway, you should see what we brought for ya!" Zegolas interrupted. "We brought an army of dead guys!"

This was enough to shake the Princess from her depression. Now she was really ticked off instead. "Dead guys? How will that help us? We have enough dead people on the field right now!"

"I'll bet they ain't like these guys!" Bubsi responded. "C'mon out, fellahs!"

Suddenly a glimmering blue figure wearing sunglasses and a cowboy hat jumped from out of the ship. "Ah!" he declared. "I love the smell of... uh... arrows in the morning. Corpse Commandos, let's rock, rock on!"

He was quickly joined by an army of similar beings in various stages of army dress. "Graduating class of the Third Age rules!" they shouted before rushing into battle, mowing down Goblins like they were nothing.

"Well, you didn't say they were such... _proactive_ dead guys." Marzwpyn added.

"Check out this one, yo!" Zegolas shakily aimed his bow once more. "I call this my trick shot!"

"Hit the dirt!" Bubsi yelled. TWANG! The arrow careened off wildly. It bounced off some guy's shield, went right through a Corpse Commando who didn't even notice, made a funny rebound off of a rock, and ended up jabbing a Goblin who was riding one of those elephant-things right in the rear. The Goblin slipped off the elephant and, in his attempts to stay on, ended up pulling the beast over, crushing a good portion of his own army.

"Heh. Works every time!" Zegolas announced.

"C'mon, guys!" Bubsi rallied. "Let's start hittin' folks on the head already!" the three warriors, backed by the Princess, returned to battle.

Meanwhile, Randolph approached the abandoned remains of an elephant-thing and looked around in curiosity. "Is nobody interested in this fine tenderloin?" he asked. When nobody responded, he eager whipped out the steak sauce.

By this point Fromestar and Strong Sam had finally reached the entrance to the volcano of Mount Dumb. There was an outcropping of relatively stable rock, and far below was the lava pit. The destruction of the Ring was one good toss away.

"Ah, nothing like a good sauna." Fromestar enthused. "I wonder if there's a Jacuzzi here too?"

"By this point I'm beyond caring." Strong Sam sighed. "Just toss that ring in the pit and let's get out of here."

"Well, somebody woke up on the gwumpy side of town this morning!" Fromestar scolded. "All wight, I'll destwoy the Wing alweady, Mr. Cwanky-Pants."

"Just a few more pages and we're done... a few more pages..." Strong Sam reminded himself.

"NEEEEEEEEHHHHH!" Howled an inhuman voice as a golden blur shot out of hiding, directly at the pair. It savagely knocked Strong Sam to the floor and stared at Fromestar, eyes gleaming at the prize hanging around his neck.

"Oh, look, Stwong Sam! It's that cute little puppy-thing again!" Fromestar cooed. "And it looks like he still wants to play!"

"He's not trying to play, Mr. Fromestar!" Strong Sam replied, tackling The Cheat to the ground before he could pounce again. "He wants the Ring! Destroy it while I hold him off!"

"Okay, okay." Fromestar dismissed, stepping towards the edge. "Mr. Bossy Guy."

"Hurry!" Strong Sam yelled as he wrestled The Cheat further.

Fromestar picked up the Ring and stared at it. Very shiny. In fact, it seemed even shinier in the glow of the volcano. "Y'know, Stwong Sam, I've been thinking." He murmured dazedly, oblivious to the brawl raging behind him. "This is a weal nice piece of merchandise and all. I think I just might keep it."

"Mr. Fromestar, no!" Strong Sam yelled as The Cheat struggled to escape. "It's the evil of the Ring! It's poisoning your mind!"

"Poisoning my what?" Fromestar asked.

"Uh, never mind." Strong Sam conceded.

"And it's weal cool when you put it on..." Fromestar mused, raising the Ring.

"Don't do it!" Strong Sam shouted. He may as well have been shouting at the wind.

WHOOSH! The instant Fromestar put on the Ring he was gone. "Stealth mode!" his disembodied voice cheered.

"No!" Strong Sam shouted, shoving The Cheat to the ground and racing towards the spot where Fromestar stood. All he found was empty air.

"Hewe I am, Stwong Sam!" Fromestar's voice came from behind him. Strong Sam spun around, but once more was unable find anything. "You can call me Doctor Invisible!" Fromestar's voice taunted. "I'm making faces at you wight now and you can't even tell!"

"There is no time for this!" Strong Sam huffed, his arms fruitlessly waving at what he couldn't see. Fromestar sang a little song as he pranced around, giddy with power.

It was then that The Cheat picked himself up, wiping the dirt off of his mouth. His eyes burned with fury. He let his senses guide him; the echoes of that idiotic voice bouncing off the volcano walls, a light scent, and... two large footprints in the ash-laden dust. With a shrill cry he pounced, grabbing onto something that was unseen and yet definitely there.

Strong Sam was knocked to the ground in the fracas as The Cheat thrashed wildly on top of his invisible prey. "Ouch! Hey! Get off me!" Fromestar shouted. "Down! Off! Bad boy! No tweat!" The wretched creature made his move. A glimmer of a golden tooth. A loud chomp matched by a cry of pain from the again-visible Fromestar. And the Ring bounced to the floor and rolled up to Strong Sam's feet.

"Stwong Sam!" Fromestar sobbed. "He bit my finger off!"

"What finger?" Strong Sam asked.

"Oh! Uh... never mind." Fromestar shrugged as he continued to grapple with The Cheat.

Strong Sam looked down at the glittering trinket at his feet. "I've been dragged over every mile of this Eru-forsaken countryside." He murmured to nobody in particular. "I've been attacked by Goblins, nearly eaten by a spider, captured twice, almost drowned, frozen and killed by heat-stroke..."

"Yeah, we oughta do this more often." Fromestar smiled at the memories.

"Not to mention." Strong Sam continued. "That everybody we meet thinks that there's something going on between us for some reason."

"Yeah, that's just dumb." Fromestar agreed.

"And it's all because of this stupid Ring." Strong Sam declared, leaning over and picking the shining object up. The instant he touched it incredible light flooded his senses. A brilliant green eye dominated his vision and a deep voice echoed through his mind.

"GOOD WORK, MAN." The voice boomed. "NOW, PUT THE RING ON AND WE'LL RULE THIS PLACE TOGETHER, OKAY? I WAS YELLING AT THAT OTHER GUY, BUT HE JUST WASN'T LISTENING TO ME."

Strong Sam stood stunned as the influence of the Ring washed over him. Were he to yield to it, he might actually be repaid for all of the pain, discomfort and terror he had experienced over the past nine hours. Finally he made his decision. "I'm getting rid of this Ring before somebody writes another book about it." He said with finality, tossing the unholy artefact over the edge.

"LOSER!" the deep voice spat before it disappeared.

"NEEEEEEEEHHHH!" The Cheat screamed, wrenching himself from Fromestar's grasp and bolting towards the edge.

"Hey! That's mine! Get your own!" Fromestar yelled, also running towards the flaming pit. The both of them jumped over the edge, both determined to get the Ring at whatever cost.

Strong Sam sighed. On one hand, the trip home would be a lot quieter and a whole lot less stupid. On the other hand, it wouldn't make for much of a happy ending... With one decisive movement, Strong Sam reached down and grabbed Fromestar by the ankle, stopping his plummet to certain death. "Uh, you know, Stwong Sam." Fromestar commented as he dangled upside-down. "I guess I don't weally need it that bad. Maybe when we get home I'll get a new one fwom the gum machine."

Meanwhile, The Cheat plummeted in free-fall, determined to catch up to the object of his obsessions. Finally he grabbed it from the air and clutched it selfishly to his chest. He cackled to himself in satisfaction and squeaked out something that sounded for all the world like "Precious."

His joy was short-lived when he remembered that he was still falling into a boiling lake of lava. The instant he hit the inferno he screamed and rocketed straight up, blasting clean out of the cone of the volcano, his posterior still on fire. The Ring fell out of his grasp and was quietly consumed by the malevolent fire that had forged it.

Out on the battlefield, things were grim for our heroes. The Corpse Commandos were a great help, but now Arapom, Marzwpyn, Zegolas, Bubsi and Randolph were surrounded by sinister Goblins, who were looking to take them out in a last-ditch effort. The five heroes made a bold stand with sword, bow, axe and staff, but it appeared to be for naught.

Suddenly the entire area shook like a leaf in a hurricane. All turned and saw the cone of Mount Dumb erupt in a violent explosion, scalding lava blasting in all directions. "OH, CRAP." The Eye of Saurong Bad yelled as his tower began to tip over. As one all of the Goblins abandoned the battle and ran towards the toppling structure in an attempt to slow its fall. They only succeeded in squashing themselves flat when the tower impacted the ground with incalculable force, the crash echoing for miles. The sound heralded the end of Saurong Bad's grip on the land for once and for all.

"We did it!" Zegolas cheered. "Those little guys musta destrayed the Raeng!"

"Ah, dangit!" Bubsi fumed, kicking the ground. "I was lookin' forward to fighting some more! I was just gettin' warmed up!"

"I hope that eruption doesn't kill any indigenous plant growth." Marzwpyn declared, gravely.

Arapom bubbled his concern for Fromestar and Strong Sam.

"Well of course, I hope they're alright too." Marzwpyn insisted. "But if I had to make a choice between them and the plants, well..."

"Hmm! Who is that?" Randolph gestured with his staff. All turned and saw a masked figure with boxing gloves dragging himself out of the wreckage of the tower.

This was not a good day for Strong Bad. Some idiot had destroyed the Ring, which had killed the power to his big green searchlight and megaphone, with which he had fostered the illusion of Saurong Bad's return for years now. The tower falling over was only added injury to insult. "Freakin' Hobbits." He growled to himself, dusting himself off.

"rrrrrrreeeeeeeeEEEEEEEE**EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHH**!" suddenly a still-scorched The Cheat, who had attained Jordan-level air from his blast out of the volcano, plummeted from the heavens and landed squarely in Strong Bad's arms.

"What the crap... The Cheat?!" Strong Bad angrily demanded. "Where have you been? What happened to the Ring?"

"Yeena wuh nummana!" The Cheat growled.

"Ahem." Somebody piped up. Strong Bad looked up and saw two swords, a bow, an axe and a big ol' stick aimed right at him.

"Oh, uh... hey guys!" Strong Bad stammered. "Who's up for a... uh, riddling game?" A blast of flame from Randolph's staff, and the two were sent scurrying over the horizon, looking for refuge. And Calamine lotion.

Meanwhile, Fromestar and Strong Sam were still alive, if only barely. The eruption had coated the mountainside with deadly lava, leaving only a small raised rock outcropping for the weary pair to rest on.

"Okay, okay." Fromestar said. "I spy, with my little eye, something that is owange, and weally hot, and all over this place."

"Molten lava?" Strong Sam sighed for the seventeenth time in as many minutes, wishing he had the strength to throw himself in. Getting burned alive could hardly be less painful.

"Wow! You guessed again!" Fromestar exclaimed. "That's like, what? Seventeen in a row? You're good at this, Stwong Sam!"

"Maybe I should retire from this game." Strong Sam suggested.

"Good idea!" Fromestar agreed. "Okay, what else could we play? Oh, I know. What am I gonna say next? Sid Mithrandir or Sid Baromir?"

"Oh, I don't know." Strong Sam sighed. "Um, Sid Mithrandir?"

"Nope! Sowwy." Fromestar laughed. "I was thinking of Sid... Isandulir!"

"Mr. Fromestar, that wasn't even one of the choices!" Strong Sam moaned, lying flat on his back.

"Yeah, you're pwobably wight." Fromestar shrugged. "It happens." He casually glanced at the smoke-filled sky. "Hey, look! Birdies!"

"Likely vultures." Strong Sam replied. "I hope they start with the jugular."

"Hello, boys!" Rang out a familiar voice. Both looked up and saw none other than the Wizard of Town astride two of his elegant Yello Dellos.

"Wandolph!" Fromestar exclaimed. "You came back! Where were you?"

"It's a long story, my boys." Randolph explained as his avian familiars landed on the rock, ready to transport the lot of them away from this place. The golden birds helped lift the exhausted pair onto their backs and flew off.

"A long story?" Strong Sam sighed as they disappeared over the horizon. "Are there any other kinds in this place?"

--

Poopsaruman stood silently (like he could stand any other way), observing his torching of the Homeshire. A small victory, to be sure, but it was enough for him feel some sort of fulfilment.

CLANG! He was suddenly knocked unconscious through judicious pressure of garden rake to the back of his skull. As he blacked out, he pondered the irony of a mute character playing a character whose power resided in his voice...

"I'm a very sorry, Mr. Poopatina." Senor Wormtongue drawled. "But I've got a certain apologetics to hang with you."

--

((We now return you to the far superior Strong Bad-ized narration))

Well, that about wraps it up. The good guys win and the cheering and the bad singing and the blah blah blah. After that, Arapom took his place as King, and married some girl who showed up in the first movie for like ten minutes but we forgot to mention. And oh yeah, Fromestar wrote a book. Knowing him, it was probably ten pages long, eight of which were drawings he made of legless kittens or something. I don't think it really matters, though, 'cause after that happened, pretty much everybody got on a boat and sailed away to some place or other. Except Strong Sam. They left him behind, because really, who would want to be on a sea voyage with that guy? Ten minutes of listening to him, and you'd be marooning him in open water or something.

"That's not right!" Strong Sad whined like the wimp he truly is. "Actually, after the fall of the Third Age and rise of the Age of Men, the..."

Oh, whatever. The point is, you missed the boat, man.

"No!" Strong Sad should seriously have something better to do. "Actually, my character married..."

Yeah, yeah. Sound the bell, 'cause this story's over, man. Way over. Heh. Can you imagine if somebody actually made a movie out of this?

"Actually, they did." Strong Sad said, sounding like the whine of the ocean waves on a muggy day. Which sounds really annoying, may I add. "It won several Academy Awards for..."

Why didn't I hear of these movies, man? I'd better check them out!

"They have Liv Tyler in them, though." Strong Sad warned.

What?! Oh, man. Freakin' Hollywood ruins everything!

THE END

**Next Installment:**

Movie Musical Montage 


	7. Movie Musical Montage? Not Quite

**MOVIE MUSICAL MONTAGE…?**

STAMP!

A giant rubber stamp with the slogan NO SONG LYRICS on it impacted the screen.

"Uh… guys?" Homestar asked. "I think the musical is off."

"Aw, come on, man!" Strong Bad protested. "This was gonna be… different, man! Not like those umpteen-hundred stories where a guy writes, like, 2 paragraphs of something original, and then pastes in the entire lyrics to some Green Park song, and then writes some stuff at the end… this was gonna actually UTILIZE the lyrics! You know, like all the great… uh… guys who copy and paste stuff they didn't write do…"

"So, uh… do we just hang awound and wait for the next chapter?" Homestar asked.

"Nahhh… I say we bitterly and half-heartedly edit the lyrics outta that one movie parody and put it up for all twelve of our viewers to see and deride." Strong Bad nodded. "Maybe they won't notice this thing's a freakin' half-year late…"

"Yes sir, Captain Muwway!" Homestar saluted as the screen came to life. Figuratively speaking, of course.

**A SHORT MOVIE PARODY**

Lavish satin curtains pulled back to reveal an elaborately decorated stage, the style of which seemed to be a cross between ancient India and bohemian Paris. The music swelled and the spotlight shone on Homestar's form, perched on top of something, as he broke into a grin and belted out the opening lines to _Rocket Man_.

"Homestar, you're singing the wrong song again." Marzipan, clad in a tacky red wig, scolded as she too sat on the large object in the middle of the stage.

"Well, jeez! Which one is it?" Homestar asked, leafing through the pages of_ Sir Elton's Gaudiest Hits_. "This guy wrote, like, 800 billion fweakin' songs!"

"See? This is why I shoulda been the romantic lead!" Strong Bad commented as he stomped on stage, dressed in a tacky impresario outfit, complete with a waxy moustache and top hat. "Sure, maybe Homestar's closer to your height, but at least I can remember my freakin' lines! I mean, I didn't wear this fat suit for nothing, you know." He added, patting his stomach.

"Strong Bad, that looks like your actual stomach." Marzipan commented.

"There, ya see?" Strong Bad shot back. "It's so good it almost looks natural!"

"Uh… can we take five now, please?" Strong Sad asked, in considerable muscle pain. Yes, he was the object holding up Homestar and Marzipan, using every ounce of his vaunted upper-body strength.

"Hey, read the script, man." Strong Bad snapped, cuffing Strong Sad across the face. "The elephant doesn't talk."

"But I'm only HALF elephant." Strong Sad whined. "I should at least be getting pay scale for this…"

"Eh, hate ta bug you guys in the middle of yer cadenzas like this, but… uh… we got a problem backstage." Coach Z remarked as and Bubs entered in tie and tails. "Eh, The Chort says that he's bein' typecast as the little guy."

"Meeh! Meh!" The Cheat growled as he stormed on stage in what was a pretty good likeness of Henri Toulouse-Lautrec.

"Ooh, The Cheat! You look very post-impressionist!" Marzipan cooed.

"Oh, yeah." Homestar added. "You look so much like Pwesident Twuman it's scawy!"

"It ain't that bad, The Cheat." Bubs shrugged. "Somebody's gotta be the dwarf, after all."

"I WANNA BE THE DWARF!" Strong Mad yelled, storming onstage dressed in a three-piece suit and holding a gun.

"Aw, gimme a break, man." Strong Bad rejoined. "Do you realize how few musicals have big guys with guns running around? You should be counting your lucky stars, man!"

Homsar toddled on stage wearing a monocle and a top hat. "Dya-a-a-a-ah! I'm the Duke of Earl!" he crowed.

"I've had enough of this." Marzipan pouted, jumping down and heading for backstage. "I'm going to go die of tuberculosis now and get it over with."

"Can I join you?" Strong Sad asked, hopefully.

THE END, PREMATURELY

**Next (BETTER) Episode:**

_The Witless Bride_


End file.
